


Dialogues AU

by brightephemera



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Jedi, Prisoner of War, Sith, debate, opposing viewpoints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 21,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8006134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightephemera/pseuds/brightephemera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Emperor's Wrath and her prisoner the Hero of Tython end up trapped in deep space, they have a lot of time to kill talking. Whether they reach an understanding is by no means guaranteed. This AU brings Jedi Knight Rho into Ruth's universe after Ruth has gone full Sith, several years after the game's Act 3.</p><p>Spoilers throughout the Jedi Knight and Sith Warrior Chapters 1-3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking in Trouble, 1

Rho woke up with his hands bound in front of him. He was curled up on his side, and it was agony.

The Jedi rolled to his back and the pain abated, a little. His head still throbbed. He looked around. Forcefield surrounded him on three sides. Gunmetal grey above, below, and as one wall. 

The Sith. The Emperor’s Wrath. How fast, how…deadly. He had fought her to a standstill for what had to be half an hour before she had gained the upper hand. Why hadn’t she finished him?

Where there was life, there was hope. He struggled to sit, decided that was a bad idea, and rested against the wall. Before him his green hands and forearms were still smeared with the sawdust of the battle, partly covered by the metal cuffs linked by a dishearteningly sturdy chain. Beside him was a shallow bucket, clean and empty. His cell stood in an otherwise empty black room lit only by strips of glowing oblong lights in rigid vertical lines. Her ship, all right. It must be. She wouldn’t hand him over to anyone else. Not that many people were ambitious enough to keep a Jedi prisoner. Especially not, and he knew better than to pretend the reputation didn’t have its effect, the Hero of Tython.

He extended his Force senses. They felt oddly dampened here. He mentally crept up and down the walls, seeking some break in the tedium, some hint at a control panel or loose piece. Nothing presented itself.

Something sounded from beyond the locked door. It opened to reveal the Wrath herself, all in form-fitting black armor with a black half cape, a black and silver mask fitted tight over her head. Just as she had been during their battle. She walked like death, certain and smooth.

She stopped before his cell, close to the forcefield. She said nothing.

“Wrath,” he said, rolling back his aching head to look up at her. “I see you got the best of that scuffle.”

“Yes.” She stood straight, shoulders back, immovable in her black boots. “I see you succeeded in surviving it.”

“You or your people must have tended to me. I’m only sore.”

“That was my intent in combat. Not something I cleaned up after the fact.” She sounded proud of it.

As well she should be, if she really hadn’t been fighting to kill. He revised his assessment of her capabilities. “Your control is admirable.”

“Your conduct equally so. You are a worthy enemy. As I had hoped.”

He wasn’t sure how to deal with a compliment from this woman, and she wasn’t giving anything away. He shifted. “You’re taking me somewhere?”

“To my master.” The Sith Emperor. “He wants me to deal with you in person. His will. My hand. You will not find it so easy to escape this time.”

“I see.” What Emperor, he wondered, since he had already killed one? Was this how it ended? Facing someone he had already fought once? “I...thought your master was a legend at this point.”

“Strike him down, he will rise again. This I have seen. It is he, Jedi, and he remembers your face.”

She sounded just like she had in their extremely brief conversation prior to their fight. “Do you always talk like that?”

She hesitated. He wondered whether she was arranging another burst of bombast. She was formidable, yes, but he had to at least ask.

“I say what I want to say,” she said, clipping every word. “I believe it gets the point across.”

“Oh, yes, no doubt about that. So, um. Is this your personal ship?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“Is it just us?”

“Absolutely not. I know my capability and your limits, but I’m not fool enough to sleep on them.”

Like his captors had before, the last time he’d been held against his will among the Sith? It would be impolitic to bring it up. “How long until we reach your master?”

“That, too, you don’t need to know.”

She was giving him precious little to formulate an escape plan on. “If I might–”

The ship rocked. Rho gritted his teeth against the pain while the shocks tore at his bruised side.

The Wrath took a rapid look around, then seemed to focus on him. “Reflect,” she said, “that my master only wants you killed where he can watch. If you attempt escape, I will give myself all the time I require with you before you die.”

“Hadn’t you better see what’s wrong with the ship?”

She whirled and strode out, her half-cape fluttering behind her.


	2. Car Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth finds out exacty what trouble her transport is in. Spoilers for Jedi Knight Act I.

Ruth broke into a sprint as soon as she had left the Hero of Tython’s presence. She pounded to the bridge, barely keeping her balance against a series of jumps and swerves. Whatever was going on, they weren’t in hyperspace anymore.

“Pierce!” Her guard-captain was standing behind the pilot’s seat on the bridge. One of Ruth’s guard had the helm; another was pivoting out of the navigator’s chair. “Report!”

“Droid must have come in in the Jedi’s things. Told Nevet to search that bag, must not have searched hard enough. It’s fused our comms and sabotaged the hyperdrive. We came out just in time to hit an asteroid field.” He leaned to one side at the next hard turn, but didn’t look for a moment like he was going to fall. “Going to be touchy.”

Ruth braced herself. Out the front viewport was an assortment of rocks. Real space indeed. “How long until we get out.”

“Turned around,” said the pilot through gritted teeth. “Under two minutes.”

The whole ship rocked, not from the pilot’s maneuvers. “Get it under control,” she snapped in spite of herself. She liked these people well enough, as much as she liked anyone, but she had a rank to maintain. “Where’s the droid,” she said.

The navigator held up a hand to display an off-brown ball hardly more than two fists together. It was waving a number of little metal legs. 

“How did we miss this?” said Ruth.

“I’ll talk to Nevet,” Pierce said darkly. “As far as we can tell it’s only hit the hyperdrive and communications.”

“It’s only that we’re stranded here with nothing but sublight and the toolbox in the closet.”

“It’ll be handled, milord.”

Another crash.

Ruth snarled. “Get. Us. Out.”


	3. Unmasked; a Glass of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rho speaks more with his captor, hears about his droid companion, and asks for a glass of water. Spoilers for Sith Warrior Act III and Jedi Knight Act III.

The upheaval passed. So did several hours. Finally the Emperor’s Wrath came back, still in her black armor and mask. Rho wondered whether she sat down to her meals like that. Or slept.

“Wrath,” he said, struggling to his feet. “Is there something I can do for you?”

”Your little droid friend wreaked merry havoc on our systems before we caught him.” She showed her other hand, where LR-43 struggled ineffectually. She tossed it to the ground before Rho and drew her saber. “Enough.” She ran it through.  
There went a loyal being, and welcome company at times. Had LR gotten a distress call out? Rho would have to be an idiot to ask.

“It made no communications,” said the Wrath. “We are adrift but for sublight engines...but you are no better off than you were.”

“Well, I’m not dying in the next twelve hours.” That was an improvement.

She hesitated. “Don’t be so sure.” It was just too long a silence to be witty as such.

Well, he had at least one thing to get to. “I’m a little thirsty,” he said apologetically. “Could I request some water?”

She raised her voice without turning her head. “Pierce. A drink of water for our guest.”

The look he hazarded was half innocence and half genuine surprise. “Is that what I am? Your guest?”

“You are in my domain and still breathing.” He could swear there was a smile in her voice. “So yes, you must be.”

“I…guess I’m just going to stay put, then.”

“Very insightful.”

“Will I even see your face before this is over?”

She stood in silence for what felt like half a minute. 

Finally she reached up and released something at the back of her head. In a smooth deliberate motion she pulled her mask up and forward, peeling it away along with its linked sleek black skullcap. A pale Human face, slightly marked across forehead and cheekbones by the tight fit of the mask. Her eyes were a startling light blue, her hair chestnut, a couple of well-pressed strands falling free while the rest swept under her tight black hood. She was young. No older than he was, surely, even if her expression aged her.

“This isn’t because you want it,” she said, a curl twisting her small full mouth to derision. “But I’m not afraid to face you.” 

“No. You’re not afraid of much.”

“I have no reason to be. What about you, Jedi? Are you afraid?”

A serious question, and one that deserved a serious answer. “Strangely enough, no.” In the end he’d met his match, and then some. “I’d like to have done more. But I did all I could.”

“It looks like you’ll have some time to make peace with the Force.”

“I always have.”

“Hm. How inspiring.”

How did she live, not being in harmony with the Force? How did anyone who could feel it? He opened his mouth and stopped.

She frowned up at him. Even in her boots she was a few inches shorter. Her presence was greater than her form. 

Someone knocked in the doorway, someone enormously tall and broad. “Milord.” He swaggered in, giving no more than an infinitesimally raised eyebrow at the sight of her exposed face, and offered her a tall glass.

“Thank you. Dismissed.” She turned to a small metal frame set into the forcefield at floor level. She drew and activated one of her lightsabers. “Stand back, Jedi.” Rho complied. By some mechanism he couldn’t see the forcefield inside the frame vanished and she slid the glass through. Then she withdrew her hand and the forcefield closed once more. She deactivated her saber and stepped back.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I will provide a meal shortly.” She turned away. “You may yet die tomorrow.” She stalked out.


	4. Ruth Warns Pierce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth feeds Rho and speaks with Pierce about the dangers of keeping him.

Ruth ate her own meal. She restored her mask and hovered over her guardsmen as they pored over the considerable damage the wretched little droid had done, compounded on the damage sustained in the asteroid field. She gathered some minimal rations on a tray - everyone would be on cut rations until they had the means of reaching the hyperlanes again. Until then her navigator had identified the nearest inhabited star system and their sublight engines were straining to deliver them. It would be days. 

The tray she brought to the prisoner’s cell. The Mirialan Jedi was lying down, his eyes closed. Good. She didn’t feel like conversation anyway. She pushed dinner through its slot, reactivated the forcefield, and slipped out.

Pierce was in the hallway. “Milord. Prisoner’s playing nice?”

“So far. He knows he can’t take me in a raw contest. All the more so for the ritual bindings we had done on that cage. It can’t deny him the Force but it weakens him while it’s in place.”

“We could probably get some good intelligence out of him, while we have him.”

“I’ll consider it.” She eyed his big hands and their brief twitch. ”I don’t want any of you talking to him. He is dangerous, Pierce, possibly the most dangerous enemy I’ve ever faced.”

“Seems to me he gave up fast enough.”

She grinned under her mask. He was among the few who could make her grin. “I may have made it look good, but that was a workout. No, whatever you could get out of him, he will get more out of you. And what he might do to your mind in the process…he’s a Jedi. Controlling people is a specialty of theirs. I won’t risk it.” She wouldn’t risk any of her people against this, the most bluntly powerful of her opponents.

Pierce gave a nod. “Yes, milord.”


	5. Rho's First Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rho gets his first idea of Ruth out of the way and agree not to talk Light Side.

Rho woke in pain. His side felt maybe better than it had yesterday, but that perspective wasn’t as helpful as he might have hoped.

He stirred and opened his eyes. There was a red forcefield practically in his face. Beyond it, crouching low, was the Wrath, her pale face intent on him.

“No repairs yet,” she said flatly. “Your reprieve is still on for today.”

“Good news, then,” he said. Out of some polite desire to even the scales he added, “Is the ship in any danger?”

“No. Only inconvenience.”

Well, good. “I see.”

She kept staring at him. His tattoos, just under his eyes and cutting from cheekbone to chin? Or something else?

“What are you looking for?” he said.

“Just studying. You’re my enemy. I should be able to point you out anywhere.”

He sat up, crossing his legs and noting that she stayed crouched, her forearms on her knees, her position tense but stable. “I’ve already studied you some,” he said. “As a Sith I might run into someday.”

“Our paths had to cross. You know this.”

“So I did. Study you. Our records are a little contradictory. Several Jedi who met you a few years ago reported you were a very friendly individual. Approachable. Constructive, even sometimes when a Sith wouldn’t be expected to be.”

Those eyes shut down. “Don’t trust reports from the front lines, especially in that mess leading up to the war. My life started on Corellia.”

Odd phrasing. “Then what was before then?”

He saw now why she wore a mask. Pain showed raw across features that looked outright girlish when she wasn’t remembering to stiffen her lip and draw down her brow. “No one.” She brought up her chin. “And I know you. Your illustrious career from some incident on Tython to the present day. You’re a famous warlord, Jedi. Do you enjoy the reputation?”

“I don’t think of myself as a warlord. I’ve assisted in leading troops for objectives before, but – “

“You’re a general and a highly skilled killer. One might almost think you and I had that in common. Only you have the further quality of persuading Sith you meet to abandon their cause and turn on their countrymen. I’ve considered just gagging you for the rest of the journey, just to be safe. But frankly I believe you’ll be more useful talking.”

“Many of those Sith came to me,” he said carefully. “Questions of the Light Side are not something I just spring on anyone.” Unless he thought they would be open to it.

She smiled sourly. “Of course not. You’ll find I don’t need your lectures on it.”

“I’m hardly in a position to be lecturing you on anything right now.”

“Correct.” She opened the small forcefield frame long enough to nudge through a tray. “Eat. You may yet die tomorrow.”


	6. Making Him Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rho settles into his cell.

Ruth disliked the prospect of taking out Rho’s bucket but she didn’t trust anyone else in the room with him and she wasn’t going to make him sit in his own filth for the days it would take them to get anywhere. So she ended up with the unpleasant job.

When she came back he was kneeling in the center of his cell, hands at rest in his lap, black hair half covering his face, wrists still chained securely together. He seemed to glow. She surreptitiously hit the control to open the cell’s access slot and slide the shallow bucket through.

Nothing about him moved, except that his eyes opened and his murky green gaze swept up to her. “Thank you,” he said.

She checked the edges of the forcefield slot, tracing its now-active lines, wondering whether there was anything wrong with it. No. He wasn’t being smug, just polite. “Consider it my investment in minimizing strain on the ship’s filtration systems.”

“You seem to be going out of your way to keep my imprisonment…I would almost say painless.” A little humor sounded in that velvety voice.

“Would you prefer the alternative?”

“No. I just wanted to tell you I appreciate the absence of torture.”

“Bound and bruised and locked away, on half rations – as the rest of us are, for the moment, but still. You have a peculiar standard for hospitality.”

“You’re not taking out your excess aggression on me. Sith have tried to imprison me before. They were rarely this considerate.”

“Or this successful.”

He shrugged as if to concede the point.

“So long as you are under my control I have no need to watch you suffer. I thought you and I might even talk.”

His calm was perfect. “What about?” It made her want to break it. If it were anyone else in the galaxy she might indulge that desire, flex her muscle, make it show. That was what the Wrath did. But with the infamously aurodium-tongued Hero of Tython it might pay not to give in to her first impulse.

So she smiled, pleasantly. “What do you know of my master?”


	7. Day 3 - 17 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rho tells Ruth about the Emperor, and an escape plan is hatched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Sith Warrior Act III and Jedi Knight Act III.

Rho stood up. For this question he wanted to be at her eye level, or close, anyway. “What do I know of your master? First of all, I’m not sure he’s what you think he is.”

The Emperor's Wrath took up a comfortable stance and eyed him coolly. “Elaborate.”

“The Emperor I encountered five years ago was an ancient Sith of incredible power. He had extended his life for hundreds of years, and he planned to extend it further. More than that he planned to rise to essential godhood, by snuffing out all life in the galaxy to fuel his master ritual.”

The Wrath looked unimpressed but for an eloquently raised eyebrow. “How dramatic.”

“I know it sounds crazy. It was crazy. That’s what made your predecessor Lord Scourge turn away from him. That’s what drove the attack we mounted on him. He destroyed himself in combat against me.”

She…grinned. “Destroyed himself? Don’t tell me you didn’t even get the killing blow.”

“I wanted to help. He was at my mercy, I couldn’t just…”

“Just _kill him like you were supposed to?_ You couldn’t stomach executing the man who you thought was carrying out a plan to murder you and literally everyone you ever loved? I use the verb loosely. How you manage to wriggle out of your own moral code long enough to win battles I will never know. Please, continue.”

He considered correcting her on the matter of justified killing but thought better of it. Onward. “Whatever you serve, it isn’t the thing we killed that day.”

“Hm.” Dark amusement played about the corners of her mouth. “If the Emperor is dead, then long live the Emperor. Maybe this one will upset you less.”

“Can he be reasoned with?”

“I wouldn’t know. That’s not my job.”

“Judging by what you’ve done on his orders, I’d say he’s no improvement.” Just how much did she know? She hadn’t been there for his incursion into the Dark Temple. She might not even have been called at that time. So who did call her, and why? Maybe he would get those answers before the end. Then again, maybe not. “He wields you like a weapon and he probably never tells you why.”

“That is his prerogative.”

He stared. She stared back, her composure porcelain perfect. 

“If you really believe that,” he said, “why do you serve him?” 

“I was called. It was a great honor.” She seemed to falter for a moment. “And in the end we serve or we die. Even you should know those terms by now.”

How bare a sentiment. “Is that all the choice you were given?”

“Only a fool would call it a choice.” She recovered her bitter hauteur. “I serve.”

“He won’t repay you in any coin you’ll be alive to use.”

“That’s all I require from you for today.” She drew her saber. “I’ll take your cup. Stand back.”

Then that was all the chance she would give him. He couldn’t afford to stay here and wait for more information. He nudged his empty glass to the forcefield slot and obediently stepped back. She deactivated that little metal slot, red forcefield giving way to empty air.

He reached for the Force, damped though it was. He reached out and sent his will ahead to seize her wrist and pull her, hard, up against the forcefield frame. She slammed to the ground, following her pinned and dragged arm.

She didn’t cry out, only twisted to face him. Like a force of nature she raised her hand from the elbow. And squeezed.

The grip on his throat felt like pincers, not only pressing but stabbing. He hit back by reflex and didn’t shake it. Maybe if he were better rested, better fed, but he wasn’t, he had only his reserves of will – and the Wrath, flaring bright with anger, had the will to match his.

She hadn’t been on half rations all this time.

He let her push his head back against the wall. He let his hands continue their reflexive, ineffectual scrabbling. All his focus had to be on relieving the crushing force on his throat. It came with darkness, heavy, blinding. He opened himself to the other side, the Light like a fine sharp instrument in his mind, cutting through darkness and pressure alike.

Her assault closed behind his focus as it moved. He choked and gagged, begging for air coming up or down. He couldn’t see her eyes from here. He only felt her anger like an ocean bearing down on him.

And then he didn’t feel anything.

*

Ruth had started out hoping only to find the limits of Rho’s knowledge of her master. She hadn’t expected his fantastical tale of world-destroying madness.

The Jedi believed it. That much was clear in every line of him. Maybe the former Wrath believed it, too; either that or he had hoodwinked the Jedi by feeding him a line that fit his own assumptions. Lord Scourge clearly wanted the Emperor dead. That might just be Sith ambition speaking. Who better to assist him in overthrowing his master, than the strongest up-and-coming Jedi in existence? The story that served that purpose must be false.

Were it true that would be a different matter. Her master had not died in Rho’s attack. Only his Voice, wielding his powers, exposed itself to the galaxy. The thing that rose as the new Voice was the Emperor, only a little transformed. If he’d had a plan, something before her time, he wasn’t executing it now. If the Empire were burning whole worlds she should be at the forefront, and right now she wasn’t. Besides, she knew better than to take testimony from a Jedi.

How exactly Lord Scourge went about defying the Emperor, she didn’t know. Her will came solidly second to her master’s in every domain where he chose to exercise it. That was just reality. Scourge’s rebellion had…disturbing implications. But it was out of her hands. If nothing else, that betrayal had raised her to this status. She should be happy for it.

Rho’s insubordination might have sprung directly from the urgency he clearly felt about this matter. The attempt didn’t surprise her. Nor did it especially alarm her. She would reach her destination, with him in tow, and he would come face to face with the supposed architect of the galaxy’s destruction. All would become clear then. 

Fool. Damned fool. He was so pleasant when resigned to his fate. No begging, no whining, no threats, none of the undignified theatrics her targets had displayed in the past. Just courtesy and a way of asking and paying attention like he actually gave a damn about his surroundings. She could almost believe the calm Jedi act. The white-hot rage she’d felt hadn’t even been for him, not really, just for his arrogance in trying to test himself against her again. With that faded, she couldn’t summon any hatred for him. He was just a man. A brave one, and almost tolerable. A…new face, someone perhaps close to her equal. Crippled by Jedi philosophy, something she would love to tear down given time, but oddly approachable nonetheless.

All right, so anybody might seem approachable once tied up and thrown in a jail cell. The point stood.

She wondered how he was doing. Being choked to unconsciousness rarely had a lasting effect except on morale, which she would just as soon keep down. Still. She wondered.


	8. Day 4 - 16 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth points out the advantages of being Sith.

The Wrath burst in just as Rho was coming out from his meditation. She waited for the door to fall shut before she pulled her mask off and tossed it aside, her hair tousled in the action. He stayed kneeling, his hands bound before him. She approached until she almost touched the red forcefield.

“Any more stupid ambitions you want to get out of the way?” she said acidly.

“No.” It was good practice, holding his composure in such a thoroughly disadvantaged pose. “I recognize that I’m stuck.”

“Good.” She eyed his neck some more. Checking for her handiwork? “Your purity leaks into the rest of the ship,” she said. “How fine it must be, to be a child of the Light.”

He relaxed. Evidently she had forgotten her earlier threats about his fate should he rebel. “I can sense your presence as well. It’s of another nature entirely.”

“We’ve worked for those auras, you and I.” She crossed her arms and stared down at him. “I so rarely find occasion to talk with a Light Side devotee. They seem to resort to violence very quickly when I come around.”

“Usually when you arrive on the scene everyone knows your mission. It would take someone of uncommon nerve to try to talk you out of it.”

“Then they fight because they are ruled by fear. How predictable.” She sneered. “I’ve never known a Light Side user who didn’t fail.”

“Conversely, I’ve never met a Dark Side master who succeeded. I think we shape our own samples.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Exhibit the first. Right here.”

“But you can’t win in the long run. You can kill me, I don’t matter, but as long as people of conscience –” he ignored her exaggerated eye-rolling – “exist to oppose you, the side of life can’t be put down.”

 “Life,” she said. “You say it like it’s a justified cause. Life is _for_ something, Jedi, or it isn’t worth the effort it takes to get up in the morning.”

“Then what is life for, Wrath?”

She hesitated. “That really depends, doesn’t it? Work. _Love_.” She put venom in the word. “Excitement. Victory. Whatever it is you Jedi think you’re following.”

“And for you?”

“My master’s will is reason enough.” She tilted her head. “Have you any comparable cause?”

“Life is its own cause. The protection of people. Ordinary people, extraordinary ones for that matter, anyone. From places like the Empire. From beings like your master.” She didn’t seem impressed. “Don’t you think it’s limiting, submitting your will entirely to one person who may have only his own agenda in mind?”

“Is it any less limiting submitting your will to coalitions of weaker beings who spend their time arguing over which of their petty agendas you should support?”

“It helps that I think of them as people,” he said mildly.

She gestured impatiently. “So they’re people. They still hardly seem worth your time. You would make a fine Sith, if you let yourself. You have the raw power to make yourself – anything you desire. Is that something you’ve even considered?”

“Not seriously. Asserting my own power doesn’t seem like a very worthy goal in itself.”

“But it enables–” she waved one black-gloved hand – “anything. Anything. Whatever you want, whatever vice, whatever pleasure, whatever fulfillment in impressing your will on the galaxy – as Sith you don’t have to ask permission. You can give your life whatever meaning you want. A man like you, no one could stop you.”

There was one glaring hole here. “Except you. And your master. Who I believe are about to stop anything I was going to do.”

“The flip side,” she said, shrugging. “Make whatever life you want, until it crosses the will of someone stronger. The fact remains, you’d have been a lot happier as a Sith.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I think I’ve been more fulfilled as a Jedi, with a life of service, than any personal path could have offered.”

“How would you know?”

He didn’t have to know. He didn’t have to ask. He didn’t know how to explain this. He could only turn it back on her. “Do you know? Do you think you’re happier serving the Emperor than you would have been helping people for their own sake?”

The flurry of expressions on her face was too fast to follow. It resolved into a shrill cackle. “Oh, you have _no idea_.” She pushed her hair back and coughed. “Goodbye, Jedi. You may yet die tomorrow.” Then, still laughing, she donned her mask and strode out.


	9. Day 5 - 15 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rho tells Ruth of a potential career; Ruth asks Rho whether anyone will miss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Jedi Knight and Sith Warrior Act 3.

Ruth let her Jedi prisoner wait until nearly noon shipside time. She did bring him food, eventually.

“Thank you.” Rho’s velvet baritone sounded from the back of the enclosure while she nudged the tray through the slot and reactivated the forcefield. “May I ask you something?”

The question prickled at her skin. “You may,” she said cautiously.

“I was thinking about what we talked about.”

“Ah. I can’t imagine you’ve had much else for entertainment lately.”

“You said I would make a good Sith. It isn’t true, I just don’t have and don’t want the mindset for it. But I’m starting to think you would make a good Jedi.”

“Don’t insult me.”

“I mean it. Your attunement with the Force is undeniable. And you’re not like other Sith I’ve met.”

Oh, please. “Do you have any idea how many people have tried that line on me?”

“Specifically? No. I imagine quite a few people have noticed it before, though.”

“Noticed what?” she said sharply.

“You face me. And are willing to have an actual conversation.”

“You’ve seduced Sith like that before. You’re infamous for it.”

“They were unusual, too.”

She suppressed her laugh, barely. This wasn’t going anywhere surprising. “So tell me how much like your unusual Sith I am.”

He stepped forward, rapidly overtopping her. “Not like them, either. You’re so much younger than I expected when I heard about you. So much…how old are you?”

None of his business. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

A scant year older than her. “So young, for such a hero.”

“Things started happening early. You can’t be much older than I am.”

“Does that surprise you?”

He studied her features, his murky green eyes intent. “I don’t know,” he said. “I could believe that you’re the greatest fighter in the Empire. A lot of Sith think they are. I think you might really be. But it’s more than that. There are bloodier and more brutal Sith than you. Some of them enjoy breaking everything they encounter. Not you. You do the job cleanly and then you’re done. You fought me on fair terms, and when you took me prisoner – here I am. All parts attached. You have honor. No small number of Sith do. But you also have some brand of decency. And that’s rare.”

The recitation bothered her. He was clearly drawing a conclusion from it that she didn’t share. “Am I less of a Sith just because I don’t wallow in it?”

“You’re more of a something else. Something with promise.”

“Moving on to the next victory pleases me more than sucking blood out of the current one. If you think I should put that front and center on my Jedi application I’ll take it under advisement.”

“You’re the Emperor’s Wrath, the most feared enforcer in the galaxy, chosen for your prowess and your ability to get anywhere and defeat anyone – from that job description alone I was expecting an unreasoning killer. Not you.”

He did make it sound impressive. She had, in all her long journey, made a point of not descending to the level of her fellow Sith. She was Sith, oh yes, born and bred to the code, but she wasn’t the animal people expected. That gave her some pleasure. – And he must know this. She peeled her lips from her teeth and shook off his flattery. “Then once more, the Jedi fail to understand their opponents. There is room for a woman like me in the Sith ranks. Can the Jedi say the same?”

“We might surprise you.”

“Somehow I doubt you will.” She shot him a hard smile and left.

 *

“Do you think your Republic misses you, Jedi?”

“You can call me Rho. I’d prefer it, actually. The honorific isn’t really necessary under the circumstances.”

The Human’s lip curled. “I don’t say it as an honorific. Do you think your Republic misses you?”

Rho considered. “My friends may have noticed by now. I’m rarely out of contact for long.”

“Do you think they’ll be afraid when you fail to come back?”

“Will my disappearance be that quiet? I would expect you to trumpet the news far and wide once it’s done. It must be a morale coup, to kill such a famous Republic agent.”

“Ah. Do you expect your execution will make the evening news?”

“That seems to be entirely in your hands.”

“Correct. But to return to the question, again. Do you think your Republic misses you?”

“Not today. Not right this minute. Sooner or later they may find a situation where they wish I could intervene.”

“Ah. They’ll miss you when they want to use you but can’t. How bleak.”

He paused, taken aback. “I didn’t mean that. As I said, my friends will have noticed long before then.”

“Do you think they’ll come to save you?” He could only call that gleam in her eyes predatory.

“I hope they won’t put themselves against you trying.”

“No. They’ll lose. Now, if they oppose me, and tomorrow, if they oppose me, and forevermore, if they oppose me. Do you realize that? You were the best of them and you lost. The remainder of your allies will fall, in time.”

“You can’t take on the entire Republic by yourself.”

“No. Someday they will surrender to save themselves.” She adjusted gloves over small hands, first one, then the other. “The sooner the better for all involved.”

There was a surprising sentiment. “Are you interested in preventing bloodshed?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? As you said, I simply don’t have time to take on the entire Republic by myself.”

“Don’t you have superweapons in development for that kind of thing?” Come to think of it, if he did survive this, that was a valuable question to have the answer to.

She wrinkled her nose. “The military does, I’m sure. It’s not a trustworthy mechanism; they have a damnable habit of misplacing these things. No. Mass death is not my department.”

An opening? “You think it’s distasteful.”

“I think there are precious few points you can prove with a billion that you can’t prove with a hand-picked few. Then again, perhaps that’s just a Sith struggling for relevance against the monsters of technology.”

“Perhaps it’s that you don’t like the waste.”

“Need I remind you, Jedi, that a distaste for wasted lives is not evidence of hidden Jedi sympathies.”

“You make that abundantly clear. Still. It’s something.”

“The Dark Side is my ally. You can’t put a good spin on that.”

“Was it always?”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t the sudden widened eyes and parted lips and uncertain brow. “Why the hell wouldn’t it be?” she said roughly.

Then the reputation she’d made before…what had she said, Corellia?...before then wasn’t entirely erased. “I just wondered,” he said. “Your self-control is more than the average Sith’s.”

“You say that. You don’t know.” She was already stooping to take her mask and don it.

“There’s always the chance to prove it,” he said.

She jabbed a finger in his direction. “I. Have. Nothing. To Prove. _Jedi._ ” She didn’t even bother with the death threat on the way out.


	10. Day 6 - 14 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little discussion about Sith-Jedi conversion.

Ruth talked with Captain Pierce at least long enough to verify that morale, while flagging, would hold some minimal level until they got back to civilization. Good. The last thing she needed was her crew going stir crazy while all her energies were devoted to containing the Jedi in their midst.

It was containment she sought, which made it reasonable for her to come back.

She slipped in the ration bar and water glass, then reactivated the small frame forcefield. Rho, muddy-eyed and calm, watched her.

“How long have I been in here?” he said.

“Six days, minus a few hours. Is it so hard to tell?”

“I don’t have a clock outside your maintenance. And I’m not convinced you do that regularly.”

“Hm.” She hadn’t been. The thought that it might disorient him further was a little encouraging. It wasn’t torture. Just a way to put him on edge. The Jedi deserved it.

Rho composed his hands in his lap. “What would you like to talk about today?”

“I wasn’t necessarily going to talk about anything.”

“Ah. Sorry if I’m overeager. I don’t have much else to do in here. Nor…you out there, I imagine.”

She rolled her shoulders uneasily. That was too true. “I had some questions,” she said. “About my predecessor. Did he truly come to the Light Side?”

“Well…no. Not exactly.”

She waited.

He brought his eyes up to hers and summoned that calm smile. “He came to me for help in fulfilling his vision and stopping the Emperor. But he never intended to forsake the Sith way. He has fought at my side, as a trusted ally. I think that in spite of his reliance on the Dark Side he has saved more lives than any Jedi I’ve met.”

“His assistance springs from his own self-interest.”

“That’s certainly what he thinks. I think he’s selling himself short.” He looked her over, oddly friendly instead of insolent. “You said once that the Jedi would have no room for a woman like you. There are still ways you could do good.”

“Who ever said I was interested in doing good?”

“You’ve expressed nothing but disgust for mass destruction. In the end I think there are noble reasons buried in your service to your Empire. And if you care about her people, if you care about people, it isn’t that much further to go.”

“The Empire’s people never did anything for me.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t care.”

She scowled, nettled at the near truth of it. “What are you hoping for? That I join your little menagerie of converted Sith?”

“You make it sound like I collect them.”

“They’re on your side because of you, aren’t they?”

“They’re individuals. Men and women of great courage and character. I wouldn’t diminish them by calling them trophies.”

“I wonder whether they take the same view?”

He just smiled. “It goes both ways. Do you realize the Jedi had a number of noticeable incidents involving Jedi you had encountered and spared early in your career? It seems you shook their composure. And, in some cases, their morals.”

“Really?” That sounded satisfying. “I always did enjoy throwing them off guard. If you’re losing philosophical conversations with an eighteen-year-old girl you deserve whatever fate you end up walking into.”

“So were you collecting them?”

“That was different! I…well for one thing I got around to killing my enemies.” Her cheek spasmed. “I imagine your Master Timmns gave a full report of my early failures in that regard? He was the worst out of all of them.”

“He’s a personal friend.” Oh, that just figured. The self-satisfied characters had to stick together. “His encounter cooperating with you did leave an impression.”

“If I had known then what I know now, your personal friend would be just another corpse on Belsavis.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What do you know now?”

“Everyone lies. Friendship is temporary, and he ends up ahead who ends it first.”

Rho just looked at her. When he spoke again it was in a changed voice, quieter, deeper. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Maybe not for you.” And there was the maddening part. Surely anyone in his position must have been betrayed a hundred times. So where were his scars? How could he be sailing so easily through this life when she had been beset by harsh cautions and harsher penalties since childhood? How…? She tightened her jaw, annoyed at the prickling around her eyes. “Good night, Jedi. You may yet die tomorrow.”


	11. Day 7 - 13 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth and Rho discuss Mirialan tattoos and recruitment posters.

“I’m going to ask you a personal question. Whether you answer is as yet a mystery known only to you.”

Rho stood up to face the Wrath at a short distance broken only by the cell’s forcefield. Even through the reddish cast, her eyes looked very blue. “I’ll try, anyway. What is it?”

“Your tattoos.” Her gaze took in the little triangles under his eyes and the twin tessellated-diamond slashes cutting from the center of his cheekbones to the corners of his mouth. “I don’t meet many Jedi with body art. Ninety-nine out of a hundred people with those – triangles, diamonds, the geometric things, they’re Mirialan.”

“Yes, they’re traditional.”

“But you weren’t raised Mirialan.”

“I got them before I came to the Jedi.” This story was old and comfortable. “My parents brought me to an artist in the village, I must have been four. Ordinarily Mirialan tattoos are specific symbols of one’s accomplishments. But my parents knew I wouldn’t be living on Mirial or anyplace like it, so they said they would get me some in advance for what I would grow up to do.”

“How uncharacteristically ambitious.”

“They had big dreams.”

“The things you learn when you make conversation before killing somebody. I’m sure they must be satisfied.”

“I hope they are.”

What little good humor she had drained as her mouth drew down. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“What they think? I don’t correspond with them as such, no. It’s – the Jedi discourage that kind of attachment.”

“So your own mother and father only…what, hear what you’ve been up to when it makes the holovids? I hold a very low standard for Jedi but that seems bad even for them.” Oddly, the tone didn’t hold the disdain that the words did. “You let them take away your family. Why?”

He knew the recitation. “As I mentioned, that attachment can be dangerous to a Jedi’s focus. We voluntarily give up these ties so we can better concentrate on our duties.”

“Screw that. Blood’s one of the only links that means anything.  If you’re not there to protect them you’ll never be able to fight your way back.”

“Of course it doesn’t work that way. Fighting as a solution, I mean.”

“Turning your back isn’t such a hot solution, either. That you wear the symbols tells me you do care where you came from. It was a gift of love, and I suspect even you care about that. So why cut them off otherwise?”

Those doubts weren’t new to him. In her voice, though, hard-edged and final, it sounded a lot worse. “My loyalty is to the Jedi first,” he said faintly.

“A man who puts his ideas before his people can’t be trusted with either.” She looked through him when she said it. “You must understand, Sith take these ties seriously.”

“Except the ones who kill their families.”

“Idiots. That _loyalty_ is a source of strength. One that cannot be replaced.” Her lip twitched. “Though it can be taken away. Regardless, denying it or destroying it is equally counterproductive.  And I regard the one approach as very nearly equivalent to the other.” 

For a blank moment the illogic of that statement silenced him. “They’re not, not really,” he managed.

“Oh? Either way you’re alone, Jedi. Any way at all…no. Either way, you’re alone.” She turned away, not before he saw the cracks in her composure.

 

 *

 

Rho wasn’t kneeling in meditation when Ruth stepped in that evening. In fact he seemed frozen in the middle of some exercise pose, lunging, arms extended. He stretched his hands above his head and let them fall as he turned to her.

“Good evening,” he said. For a moment the Jedi’s murky green eyes caught what there was of the light in there. Green skin and diamond tattoos aside, he really did have a stereotypically pleasing face.

“They should put you on recruitment posters,” she said, and half meant it.

His eyebrows went up. The rest of his expression went down. “They do,” he said sheepishly.

She grinned. “They do it to me, too. Mask on, of course.”

“You must love the fame.”

Not especially, as such, but it was part of her service and if it helped the cause her opinion didn’t matter. “You must hate it.”

He shrugged modestly. “It’s part of my service. If it helps the cause, who am I to argue?”

“Hm.” That parallel didn’t sit easy with her. “Ever stop to think that your service really isn’t that different from mine?”

“People have called you my opposite number before. I believe we have different motivations, but I suppose the record of action might look very similar.”

“Similar? Crush our enemies, lead troops in certain strategic engagements, throw around our respective aspects of the Force whenever the situation calls for it – all right, yours is to peacefully defuse physical threats and mine is to horrify witnesses into submission, but who’s counting? Our Councils let us do as we please. They can’t stop us. All that freedom and we still end up modeling for propaganda posters. That’s the public life for you.”

“We hold up our ends of the bargain. Maybe it’s just accident that we ended up defending such different things.”

She shrugged. “I told you you would make a good Sith, too.”

“You could have been…” He looked at her shoulder instead of her and left his mouth hanging open a moment. “I know what you think of the Jedi. But hypothetically speaking. I have plenty of friends. Allies, brothers and sisters in arms. I think you’d be the one person I wouldn’t feel even slightly guilty about asking to stare into death with me. Because I know you can take care of yourself better than I could take care of you. Isn’t that odd?”

“A partnership of people pretending to be equal is a recipe for catastrophe.” She had tried that charity once. She would not again. “Of people who truly are equal…we could have made the galaxy very interesting.” Something tugged at her mind. “But that’s a what-if larger than I care to deal in. Get some rest. You may yet die tomorrow.”

The mask felt uncomfortably tight when she put it on. She secured it nevertheless, and went on her way.


	12. Day 8 - 12 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth describes her father's Jedi career; Ruth and Rho discuss their choice of career.

Once more the Wrath came with rations. Not nearly as much as Rho’s aching stomach desired. “I’m not starving you on purpose,” she said, as if reading his thought. “But our rations are limited until we reach another planet.”

“Which planet are we bound for?” he said around a ration bar, in what he hoped was a casual tone.

“Not your concern.” She nudged her mask with her foot. “I was thinking about your Jedi, having a place for any Force user who doesn’t show up dripping in blood. I don’t buy it.” Her eyes were blue and frank. “My father was a Jedi, you know.”

“I…didn’t know that, actually.”

“He studied as a padawan for eight years, from when he was fifteen. He taught me everything I needed to know about you.”

She seemed to think this made sense. “There are…significant gaps in that statement.”

She settled on a sneer. “His Jedi Master never gave him the knight’s trials, never a chance. She felt he was too dangerous. He was raised by the Sith, permanently tainted. She kept him close. Stifled him. She tried to bleed away everything human about him, every source of laughter, of happiness. She tried to tell him that a life of service without rank or opportunity was something to aspire to. In the end he didn’t believe her.” A hard smile won out. “So he came home.”

“I’m sorry your father’s master was overcautious. The Order encourages people to cultivate their potential.”

“Master Zauvien wanted nothing more than a perpetual dependent to show her Jedi superiority off to.”

Rho blinked. “Master Zauvien? Not…not the Togruta, the master healer?”

“It might be. Don’t tell me you know her?”

“Not well. She stays on the Jedi Temple, on…”

“Tython?” she said dryly. “Yes, that’s a poorly kept secret.”

“She stays with the Jedi Temple,” he said limpingly. “She works in the infirmary there, she’s one of our best healers.”

“I’m sure. Tyrants like Zauvien get tenure while good men like my father get cast out and chewed up by the Sith machine.”

And she hated it. She hated that loss. Who wouldn’t? “I’m sorry,” he said.

Her eyes widened.  “It’s done,” she said gruffly. “As a Sith at least he got the chance to live before he died.” She nodded toward the tray she had provided him. “I’ll be back.”

 

 *

 

Ruth wondered why she had brought up her father. It seemed to make a salient point, a strike against the Jedi. But it was also personal. The look on Rho’s face at the end, the utter sincerity of his condolences, chafed in her mind like a piece of grit out of place. No one pitied her. She had never done anything pitiable, except perhaps survive.

She found him meditating, again. Meditation on the Dark Side might not be a bad pastime in these empty days. But she preferred the conversation.

“Tell me truly,” she said while the Mirialan stood to meet her. “Did you ever expect to end up here?”

“Honestly? No. I never thought any Sith would take me alive.” He shivered, suddenly and clearly elsewhere for a moment. “I was wrong about that twice.”

“This isn’t how you saw yourself spending your time, when you were young.”

“Well, partly. I always assumed I would serve as a Jedi Knight in whatever capacity I was best suited for.”

“That was your ambition? To hold down a job in the Jedi Knight work pool?”

He smiled a little. “There are worse aspirations.”

“There are a hell of a lot of better ones. Didn’t you ever think about being something normal? A pilot, a firefighter, the sole conquering vanguard of an unstoppable Republic army?”

“No. I always knew I was going to be a Jedi. That was enough for me.”

“All your life. Ever since you came to the Jedi as a little one. In all that time, didn’t you ever have a choice?”

He eyed her shrewdly. “Did you?”

Answers to that swirled and clashed in her head. “I asked you first,” she made herself say.

“My parents willingly brought me to the Temple for training. After that I never wanted to leave.”

“Even a little bit? Fantasies of running away, finding adventure, companionship?”

He dropped his gaze. “Nothing that ever tempted me to action.”

“Ah, but something.”

“Everyone has stray thoughts. You don’t have to act on them.”

“Sometimes you really ought to. If only to remind yourself you’re alive.”

“You…seem to want that reminder a lot,” he said mildly.

 “It’s in the rulebook, you know. ‘There is only passion.’”

“I never would have placed you as one for rules.”

“What is the Wrath but the law’s strong arm? Since you asked, I didn’t have any choice in becoming Sith. But I’ve historically kept it on creative terms.”

“Did you ever expect to come this far?”

“There was never any clear boundary on where I expected to stop. I’m rapidly running out of ranks to exceed, so perhaps Wrath is it.”

“No desire to upstage the Emperor?”

“No. Not ever.” She didn’t want the job. She especially didn’t want whatever transformation it took for the Emperor to be what he – what it – was. And, too, she wasn’t sure she could lift her hand against him if the opportunity came.

She shook her head, hard. Thoughts of her master never sat well. “I’d better go. Sleep. You may yet die tomorrow.”


	13. Day 9 - 11 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rho gets a little sick.

Rho was still lying down when the Wrath came in with breakfast. He levered stiffly to his feet while she opened the forcefield slot, slid the tray in, and closed it again.

Rho coughed. Then, self-consciously, sniffled.

“Something wrong?” said the Wrath.

“I might be coming down with something,” Rho said uncomfortably.

“With what? What in the galaxy would wait this long before showing symptoms?”

“A few things,” he said. Alas, the galaxy was exciting like that.

Calculations flashed across her face. “I don’t have any medical gear for most alien species…”

“Standard Imperial kit antihistamine group seven should clear it up.” He took her raised eyebrows in. “When you’re prone to respiratory infections you get to learn what treatments are closest to hand.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

To his considerable surprise, she strode back out. She returned with a white plasteel kit in hand, and knelt to open it on the floor. “Give me your word you’ll behave,” she said crisply.

“You have it.” He presented his wrists to the low panel and let the Wrath undo his bonds. Then he shuffled off his outer robes –ripe-smelling by now – and rolled the short tunic sleeve up. “I promise.”

“That’s…oddly reassuring.” Her look was not friendly, but it definitely wasn’t hostile. She knelt and leaned over. Awkwardly he slid down to his back and did his best to give her a stretch of his upper arm in the slot’s frame. “Inside of your elbow,” she said. She peeled off her black gloves and then swiped his arm with a damp tissue while he tried to shift his weight away from an awkwardly twisted shoulder. She grabbed his upper arm with one small white hand and started touching and prodding the crook of his elbow with two fingers.

He caught his breath and shivered. “Don’t get excited,” she said coolly.

“It’s not so much excited as ticklish,” he admitted.

She shot him a wide-eyed look and definitely didn’t dimple. At least, he would never tell her so. She returned her attention to his arm. “There.” She picked up a little syringe and checked the needle. “I’m not terribly experienced with these, being that I’m neither sick nor aiding the sick very often, but it’s supposed to be self-explanatory.” She picked a spot, seemingly at random, and jabbed him. One cautious motion, then she brought up some gauze with one hand and quickly removed the needle to press the gauze down. “There. According to the label that should have an effect within the hour.”

“Yes, this stuff is fast-acting.” He flexed the hand on his stuck arm. “Thank you. This is…a kindness you didn’t have to give.”

For an instant her brows drew together, and then her face closed. “I only want you at your best when my master makes you kneel.”

He frowned. “Are you serious when you say those things?”

No response in those blue eyes. “Quite.”

“It’s just, one minute you’re talking like a reasonable person, and the next, the instant the Emperor comes up…”

Her answer was one quick lash. “My opinions end where his start.” She stood. “Enough. You may yet die tomorrow.”

“But I’m safe with you until then.”

She hefted the syringe and left.

 


	14. Day 10 - 10 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth and Rho discuss strong feelings. Laughter is had.

Ruth dropped her mask, letting the metal faceplate clang on the floor. She walked up to the red forcefield behind which her prisoner knelt. She sat down, cross-legged, and faced him.

“Are you bored?” she said.

He eyed her curiously but didn’t question the change in stance. “A little.”

“What would you ask for if you could have something right now?”

“A removal of the death sentence would be nice.”

“Yes, besides that.”

“A shower. A square meal.”

He meant it, too. “You Jedi have no imaginations.”

“I don’t really need much else.”

“And you recommend his lifestyle to unsuspecting Sith. I can’t imagine forcing everyone to such self-denial.”

His eyes gleamed green. “Can’t you? I know how minimal your work is. And I bet if I went outside right now I’d find a ship as spare as this.” He gestured around at the empty room. “And a crew you hardly talk to. When’s the last time you indulged anything, Sith?”

She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I came to talk to you, didn’t I? That’s well outside my job. I do it because I want to.”

“But is there any strong feeling even in that?”

“Strong feeling?” Stars, he really didn’t know, did he? “You’ve never seen me hate.”

“No. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

She paused, taken aback. “Not at all.” He had never wronged her. “I hate what you stand for. I hate that as long as you live the Empire will never know peace. But I don’t hate you, Jedi. You’re not worth the effort.” She wondered whether it sounded as hollow as it felt.

“Is that what you want?” he said in a strange voice. “Peace?”

“I did,” she said softly. “I...want the threats to the Empire gone. Isn’t that the same thing?”

“When the threats outside are gone the threats within will remain. By the time you finish dealing with those will there be anything left?”

That was the sort of thought that haunted her emptiest moments. “That is my master’s decision. Not mine.”

“Are you really acting on _your_ passions, then? Or his?”

“I don’t have to answer that.” She cleared her throat. “How did we get here from talking about your inability to enjoy anything? Are you so anxious to talk away from it?”

“No. I just got sidetracked talking about you.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Sorry.” His velvet voice was warm. “If you don’t sympathize with self-denial for individual improvement, can you at least understand it for the greater good? As you yourself try to?”

“What good is served by stifling pleasure and the motivation afforded by anger and the excellence driven by pride? What can you accomplish in dry discipline that couldn't be done equally well in a blaze of glory?”

“My focus lends me strength.”

“And binds your hands.” She leaned closer, her nose nearly grazing the forcefield. How lonely he must be in his self-imposed isolation. How terribly lonely. And yet oblivious to it. “Don’t you wonder what it would be like to let go these chains you cling to and _feel_?”

He didn’t back off. Two neat parallel lines formed between his eyebrows. “Sometimes,” he said. “But that’s an easy path to start on, and a very hard one to leave.”

“So you’re afraid? You. The strongest of them – the best. Afraid of one little idea.”

He brought up his chin, an odd mirror to her occasional mannerism. “I don’t think I’m the only person here afraid of feeling something.”

She threw up her hands. “Whose side are you trying to corrupt me to, here? Are you _trying_ to make me angry?”

“Your anger never seems to stay for long. There has to be something else. I don’t think it’s just your work ethic.”

“I’ll show you a damned genuine feeling when you show me one. Fair’s fair.”

His lips quirked up. “All right. How’s pleasure in a good argument?”

“You–nuisance!” He only laughed. “You want angry, I’ll– I’ll–” mutinously her diaphragm spasmed – “stop laughing!”

“I will when you do,” and he chuckled. Again.

“I am not– you smug–” this was not a giggle, it was not – “smug– _Jedi!_ ”

He wiped his eyes. “See? No self-denial required.”

“You hateful thing.” She stifled herself against the back of her wrist. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone…”

“I’d die first.” He paused thoughtfully. “Won’t I?”

“Mm. Good point.” She sobered. “I…yes. I. Have work to do. And you may yet die tomorrow.” Hurriedly she stood to turn away. She didn’t know what expression to have on her face.


	15. Day 11 - 9 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rho opens on a new line of questioning. Ruth is perturbed, and she doesn't know the half of it.

Out of nowhere, Rho was in someone’s arms.

Not only was her body lithe and strong against him, her slender arms were tight, and one small gloved hand trailed hot on his cheek, her fingertips moving like spots of radiance. Her mouth throbbed sweet and firm against his, teasing his lips apart, and he resisted her for only a moment. He belonged here.

The Emperor’s Wrath was soft, and so very gentle…gentle but not shy. She pushed him down to his back and he wrapped his arms around her, desperate to enclose her, to…yes, yes…and her eyes were wide and eager while her hand slid down their fused bodies to help him with his belt

He sat up in a chill of horror. Not quite enough chill to calm himself. These dreams were made to be ignored, to be meditated away. Ten times the more so when the woman was – when it was – this wasn’t only disrespectful, it was _wrong_.

He had nothing with her except a week and a half of trial. It was because of her that he was hungry, dirty, doomed.

All those words had double meanings.

He lay down and kept his hands stiffly at his sides. He supposed it was only natural to have her on his mind after the stress of the last days.  She was compelling. She had to be, being who she was. She was a light shining at an edge, whether she knew it or not, and he felt even if she didn’t the draw from the right side of that edge. So bright and so close. He could not call her beautiful – not as a Jedi, and not as a man facing one who had committed the crimes of the Wrath – why was it so easy to forget that? – but she was so close to becoming. So close, the possibility glimmering in her every fugitive smile. If he could have some small part of bringing the best of her out he would be, and gladly.

Platonically. Platonically.

 

*

 

Ruth put serious consideration into cutting some of her ration bar off to give to Rho. A couple of things held her back. One, her crew was on cut rations and if she had any to spare it should go there first, and two, she still needed any physical advantage she could get over a dangerous prisoner, meaning she got full meals and he didn’t.

It would just be nice to feed him, that was all.

She filled out the tray with a bowl of clean water and a box of wipes. Not quite a shower, but it was something.

“Not much longer now,” she announced as she walked in.

“Ah.” Rho kept his eyes on the tray while she slid it through. “Thank you.”

She closed the slot’s forcefield and seated herself opposite him again. He didn’t look her in the eye. His cheeks looked a little flushed. “Are you all right?” she said.

“What? Oh! Yes. Thank you. I’m fine.”

“Really.” Somehow her suspicion came out as a smile.

“Yes. I am. Just…I didn’t sleep well.”

“You’re a poor liar.” She raised an eyebrow. “If you’re contemplating escape, I need hardly remind you that any such effort will be met violently. No matter how well we’re getting along.”

“I know. I do.” He flushed deeper. “I…do you, is there someone waiting for you? Out there?”

She pushed herself backward. Where had he…?  “That is a _hell_ of a question, Jedi.”

“I just wondered. You’re so bottled up in other considerations. There’s…it just seems like I’m missing a piece.”

“A piece of a whole you’re not entitled to.” And yet somehow she hated to leave it there. “You first. Anyone waiting for you at home?”

“No. There never has been. I mean, I think some people have been in love with me, but...I never let it happen.”

He sounded like being an object of desire was something to be ashamed of. She had to poke at that. “You? Tall, handsome, well-built, well-spoken, not to mention record-breakingly strong and heroic? I can’t imagine why someone would choose you, or try.”

His cheeks had deepened from green to nearly black. “I never worked for any of that.”

“Add to it effortless and humble. You’re not helping your case.”

He squirmed. It was a delight to see. “I wouldn’t expect you to notice. You’re an Imperial. I’m an alien.”

“Must I be that predictable?”

“It would help.” He swallowed hard. “Wrath, are you f-flirting with me?”

The stutter sounded like sweeping victory. She smiled, startled at how much she was enjoying this. “Would you try to stop me if I was?”

“I can’t–that is–it’s inappropriate for two people of our, um, position.”

“Force save me from the appropriate. Never fear, Jedi, I’m not here for your innocence.” Except in the philosophical sense. Obviously. Oh, how she wanted to shake his calm before this was done. “But consider what it means that you’re so terrified of the beginnings of a real bond with someone.”

“Is this how you start your bonds?”

Of course not. Absolutely not. Not after what she’d been through. But the time for confessions was past. She kept her grin and enjoyed the panic in his eyes. “Only the fun ones.”


	16. Day 12 - 8 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth talks about love and trust; Rho makes mention of war crimes; Pierce observes.

The Wrath had nothing to say when she brought Rho dinner and took out his bucket. In the morning she seemed a little more relaxed.

“You were quiet last night,” she said.

“I assumed you would start the conversation.”

“Ah. I was remiss, then.”

“Can I start now?”

She sat opposite him. “Do.”

“All right. Turn and turn about, Wrath. Were you ever in love?”

Her face clouded. He felt an unaccustomed pang when she stood up and turned away. “I thought everyone was, at one time or another.” There was an edge her voice had when she was being Wrath that kept slipping away when she talked like this. “Of course I was.”

“This isn’t something you…obviously. Talk about.”

“No,” she told the far wall. “It’s really not.”

He stood up as if that would bring him closer. “What was he like? This person who earned your regard.”

She turned back to him, looking pale. “He was a good Imperial. A model Imperial, up to and including maintaining loyalty to the motherland over loyalty to anyone or anything or any promise or any…” Her mouth twisted down. “I would have given him the galaxy. But he didn’t want that from my hands. He betrayed me at the man who was then my master’s command.” She took a quick shallow breath. “He tried to kill me. Personally.”

“I…had no idea. That must have been terrible for you.”

She glared. “You can’t imagine the loss. Somehow I don’t think you’ve ever invested so much of yourself in someone else.”

“Doing so would go against the vows I swore.”

“Love has a way of getting around vows.” She blinked hard. “But only sometimes, and only for some people.” Her brow drew down. “Spare me your oaths, Jedi. Words are worthless.”

“I think many people can be taken at their word.”

She shook her head and made a cutting gesture. “That’s what I can’t understand about you. You’re so innocent it hurts. You trust people. I think you would even trust me if I made you some promise right this minute. Knowing I am what I am, knowing I have every reason to lie to you. I think you’d still believe.”

“I find most people are all right, if you give them the chance.”

Heartache suffused girlish features while she tilted her face up towards his. “Don’t you understand? I did.”

“I’m so sorry.” As if unconsciously he brought his hand up to splay against the forcefield between them, the contact warm and faintly prickling.

And as if unconsciously, she brought her hand up to meet him, her fingers entirely eclipsed by his. “You’re sorry for me a lot.”

“Yes. You’ve lived your life surrounded by such cruelty, such brutality. It’s no wonder you don’t trust anyone. I could show you worlds where that isn’t the basic assumption of life. Where you don’t have to be the strongest every minute of every day just to stay alive.”

“Those worlds aren’t mine,” she said softly.

“They could be.”

But her face crystallized again. She jerked her hand away and whirled. “Do the words ‘too late’ mean anything to you?”

“It isn’t. Not for you, not yet.”

She grabbed her mask and donned it on the way out the door, leaving him alone.

 

*

 

“I’ve been thinking,” said the Wrath.

Rho stood up, wavering for half a second as he did so. He could really use a full meal.

“What would you have done,” said the Wrath, “if I had lost our battle?”

Involuntarily he looked around the bleak Imperial aesthetic, and contrasted it with his warm golden vehicle. “Taken you prisoner and returned you to Coruscant for trial.”

She arched her eyebrows. “For what, exactly?”

“You know what. War crimes.”

“I never struck a target that wasn't military. What crimes are you referring to?”

“I don't know the specifics. But the Republic has a full list of charges.”

“And didn't tell you their reasons for attacking me?” She scoffed. “You don't even know what they sent you to die for?”

“They didn't send me to die.”

She shook her head. A lock of hair fell down her cheek and she let it lie while she stared at him. “Every man sent to me was sent to die. I'm sorry you didn't realize that.”

“It isn't like that,” he said. The Republic would never throw him away. It had to be a fair fight. “You know, if I were in your place, and you forced into prison, I'm not sure I would even talk to you.”

“Yes, you would have. It isn't in you to leave an opponent in silence. If nothing else you need the audience.”

“I don't do what I do for the audience.”

“No. You do it for someone's say-so.”

He had to fight her sneer. “Like you do?”

She had the grace to look away. She brushed her hair back and changed the subject. “Would you have given me a comfortable room with a soft bed and easy Holonet access?”

“No.” The thought of her in any bed at all was– beside the point. “You know I can't.”

She nodded. “Would you have chained me, as I did you?”

“I don't see that I would have a choice.”

And she cocked her head. “Would you apologize for following orders?”

He felt himself frowning and wished his answer didn’t sound so lame to him. “I…I can't.”

“Then we are not so different.” Her composure curled up again and she looked away. “But if our positions were reversed, I would hate you.” Her gaze lashed up to his eyes. “You…”

He opened his mouth.

“Never mind,” she said loudly. “Let’s keep this civil.”

“But I–”

“Shh.” She slid her mask on and left without looking at him.

“Don’t hate you,” he whispered to the room.

 

*

 

Major Pierce was lounging in the holo room, drinking, when Ruth passed through. She slowed, unsure whether she wanted the company or not. 

He nodded companionably at her without standing. “Spending a lot of time with the prisoner, milord.” He was smart enough not to load it as a question.

Ruth swallowed. “He has yielded a wealth of information on how Jedi operate.”

“They fight. They die. Not so complicated.”

“Oh, Pierce. I prefer the simple jobs. Name a target, kill a target, all for a clear and present requirement.” He toasted her with his glass as she went on. “Now...what are we doing?”

“Taking the galaxy's most valuable prisoner of war to get I'd pay good money to see what treatment from the boss?”

“Ah. True.” He was so affable about it. Good old Pierce. “Still." Her palm hadn't stopped prickling. "I would rather have something to fight.”

“We'll get 'round to it,” said Pierce. “We always do.”


	17. Day 13 - 7 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rho asks about his execution.

Rho sat this time. Meditation wasn’t working very well. This journey must be nearing its end.

“May I ask you a professional question?” he said while the Wrath loosened her mask and pulled her sleek skullcap back.

“You may,” she said, in a not unfriendly tone.

“How are you going to kill me?”

“With a lightsaber.” Absolutely dry. “I'm not that creative.”

“No, I mean. How. I'm not going to beg for my life. But I'm not going to let it go without questions, either.”

She considered. “Stand up.” He did so. She pointed at the center of his chest. “One through the heart. Withdraw.” A second gesture, higher. “Up through the throat. It's quick.” She frowned as if fretted by an outside thought. “Unless my master requires something slower.”

“Do you often dismantle unarmed opponents?”

“You’re different and you know it,” she snapped. “And I will carry out my master’s will.” Her brow worked. “I have saved your lightsaber. If you wish, I will ask that he permit you to be armed.”

Rho blinked. She continued to look serious. “I think you meant that to be kind, but I don’t think it would improve my execution any.”

“I see. I have no other kindness to give you.” The blue eyes blinked and slid away. “I’m sorry.”

What could he do to follow up? A direct strike might still be disastrous. “You know, I always imagined you took pleasure in killing.”

She frowned. “In a hard-fought battle, maybe. But the end is just an end.”

“It's just that you do a lot of it.”

“I am the Emperor's Wrath.” Again, bone-dry.

“But that's not all you are. I-”

She snarled, the arrogance of her station suddenly back in full force. “Back off, Jedi. I know how you're going to die, down to the smallest muscle. That's not the stuff of polite conversation.”

“Are you saying you'll regret doing it?”

“There are no regrets in my master's service.” But her voice quavered. “Come here.”

He obeyed without knowing why she asked. She frowned, tugged the glove off one hand, and raised her hand to the level of his heart, pushing it against the red forcefield bare inches from him. She did so, and stared.

“The first strike will deprive the brain of blood within seconds,” she whispered. “The second is to blot out consciousness faster. Rho…” his name was a prayer in a language he didn’t yet understand…“I will take no pleasure. But you may yet die tomorrow.”

“You can only do what you know is right,” he said. She just turned away.


	18. Day 14 - 6 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth and Rho discuss their respective orders upholding politics.

“Let’s not make it personal,” said Ruth over breakfast. “All right?”

“All right.” He was blushing again. “I’m s-sorry if I upset you.”

“It isn’t you.” Whatever he’d blundered into, she knew the boy wonder – or idiot savant? – hadn’t meant harm. “But we should really get back to politics.”

“If you like.”

“You seem reasonable. Thoughtful, even. So I have to ask. Why serve where you do?”

The Jedi didn’t look quite as innocent as he had when he’d come on board. Thoughtful was the word now. “What do you mean?”

“Why prop up the Republic? They would fall if the warriors of the Jedi Order recognized their own strength and went their own way.”

“We do recognize our own strength. That is why we stay. In service. We can do more good helping the Republic than any of us could accomplish on our own. Look at the Empire. Can you imagine what the Sith could do if they pulled together, as the Jedi do?”

She smiled unpleasantly. “Can you imagine, Jedi?”

He didn’t take the bait. “It won’t ever happen. The same philosophy that makes you Sith prevents you from uniting for a higher cause. There is no concept of selfless service to you. No idea of self-sacrifice. Nothing that tells you that what you do for another may define and elevate you.”

“What you do for another always has a price. Accepting that cost up front without regard for the consequences is a strategic blunder beyond compare.”

“Giving it without reservation is…I don’t know what it is strategically. But it’s the right thing to do.”

“So you submit to the command of the wealthy and corrupt instead. That government would topple if you let it. And give way to something that would almost certainly be better, especially if the strongest of you stepped in to shape it.”

“I don’t believe corruption is unique to Republic officials. In the hands of a few strong Jedi it would result in a society no better than the Empire’s.”

“You say that like the Empire has no redeeming qualities. Like our purpose, efficiency, strength – I could go on.”

“Yes, but where in all that is your heart?”

“Where it has always been. In my work. My people will win this war, Jedi, unless your people dramatically adapt. Because we _are_ capable of self-sacrifice for one cause. We just include a lot more resources when we say ‘ourselves.’ Renegade Sith may threaten but they can never stop us.”

“I have to disagree. Your leadership remains fractured, your master mostly silent, and your people, beaten and abused by the very higher-ups who should be protecting them. Maybe you do something for your people, but you’re only one Sith. The Republic will win this war. And we’ll bring democracy to the rest of the galaxy.”

The world had faded under his voice. She leaned in, anxious to keep the moment. “Absorb it into your bloated bureaucracy, you mean. The outer worlds will be no better off than they were before, while the wealthier Core worlds will find themselves taxed right into line.”

“As if the Sith don’t strip the worlds they conquer?”

“Adjustments are made either way.” She silenced herself, thinking. “I once believed it was possible to reform the Empire.  Not just lead Force-blind soldiers to mass deaths in the name of freedom, but change the culture from within, by using my powers for good. To protect people.”

“What changed?”

“Everything I’ve talked about. Everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve…done. I don’t regret it. But the vision my father had, that I had once, it can’t work. The Empire will survive because she is what she is. The Republic can’t defeat that. And individual reformers only waste their lives trying.”

“So you support the Empire because you think it’s inevitable?”

“Because I gave my life. I offered it to reform and it didn’t work. So I’m offering it to power instead. There’s nothing else for me to do.” She tilted her head. “You may yet die tomorrow. Someone’s calling,” she lied, and turned on her heel, and left.

 

  *

 

Rho was going to die. That was the thing he was trying and failing to resign himself to. He was going to die.

He accepted the risk of death in every combat assignment he was given. His communion with the Force should already have opened his mind and arms to that possibility. It was just different when he sat a stone’s throw away from the most feared killer in the galaxy, knowing she had plans for him.

He could suspend himself in unity for a long time, but these hours would trail on to madness if he didn’t have her irregular visits to look forward to. He did look forward to the conversations. She could put aside the question of execution long enough to talk. Quite apart from its being his only hope of survival, and a small hope at that, he found a certain interest in dealing with someone who didn’t take his benevolence or rectitude for granted.

Why she should be willing to participate he was less sure. Maybe she liked to rub in her victories. Maybe she was genuinely curious about her enemy. Or maybe she talked to him because there was no one else she could talk to. That was a tragic idea.

It was also probably true.

He would draw her out regardless of the circumstances, if only he had the time. She was fascinating in her own right. Wounded, conflicted, misguided, but sharp, striking – intellectually, of course – also she was the sole gatekeeper to the outside world and his hope of survival – but that clearly wasn’t the most important thing here, not as important as someone’s soul.

Stars. What a soul.

He was going to die. In light of that, of the days or hours left, how much good could he really do? For either one of them?

Maybe he was going to die, but he wasn’t helpless yet.


	19. Day 15 - 5 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rho talks about Tython.

The Emperor’s Wrath sat crosslegged to face Rho. “Tell me about Tython.”

He sucked his breath between his teeth. “Is that…common knowledge, where you’re from?”

The corners of her mouth curled up. “Pretty much, yes. But I know nothing about it beyond its existence. I imagine it’s all soothing grey stone and desert beauty or something.”

“No, it’s rich. It’s alive.” It was so far away from this barren cage. “Trees everywhere, waterfalls, scenery to break your heart if you let it. – Not that I ever got so excited about it.”

“Naturally,” she said, still smiling. “It must be very peaceful.”

“Well, there are the Flesh Raiders.”

She perked up. “Flesh Raiders? Animals?”

“No, not at all. Semi-sentient bipeds.”

“Flesh Raiders. Why not Grievous Injurers or Ravening Monsters?” She scoffed. “What do they call themselves?”

Startled, Rho gave it a moment’s soul-searching. “I…don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Really? I thought the Jedi extended their protective wings over everyone.”

“They fought us. Tooth and nail. We can’t make peace with them.”

“Did you try?”

“Someone did,” Rho said weakly. “The Jedi Council. I’m sure.”

Ruth raised eloquent eyebrows. “When I was first introduced to the Killiks I was told they were barely sentient enough to carry a blaster. It took the Imperial Diplomatic Service a very great price to uncover the truth. It turns out their civilization is as rich and as old as ours is.” Her forehead twitched. “Mine is. Regardless, despite my disagreement with some of their larger representatives…they’re great allies.” She frowned at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said hastily. “I just never figured you for a defender of sentient diversity.”  
  
“I only call it like I see it. Tell me about your Flesh Raiders. Surely the padawans were kept insulated from their depredations.”   
  
“You'd be surprised.”

She tilted her head, shaking off a small smile. “You’re joking.”

“Some days I was the first line of defense. Only in out-of-the-way areas.”

“Sixteen and the hero already? I’m surprised it took you so long to be titled Hero of Tython.”

“Many, many more helped.”

“Isn’t that sweet.” The Wrath stretched and Rho, to his own discomfiture, didn’t look away for a moment. “Tomorrow,” she yawned, “I'll tell you about Korriban.”  
  
“Is there going to be a tomorrow?”  
  
Surprise and something else chased across her face. “Yes.” She stood and stepped back. “You may...yes, Jedi.”


	20. Day 16 - 4 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth describes Korriban. Rho asks about the Emperor.

“Good morning,” said Rho.

“Good morning,” said the Wrath. “All things considered.”

“You were going to tell me about Korriban.”

“I spent all evening thinking about it. It’s a mass of history. Hot by day, frigid by night. I've traveled to a hundred worlds and never found another quite so austere.”  
  
“You learned to use the Force there?”  
  
“No.” She frowned. “I learned from my father on Dromund Kaas.” After a pause she took a breath and hurried on. “Korriban was for polish. And networking. I needed a master stronger than my father." More softly: “I never found one. Korriban. Mostly tombs and dormitories. It was a dangerous place. No native life beyond k'lor'slugs and the rumor of terentateks. The rest...teachers hoping to sponsor the next great Sith and students hoping to be that Sith. I was lucky. I had the capability. Many who didn't died, usually in dark corners or as class demonstrations.”  
  
Rho wasn’t sure exactly when to recoil, so he gave up on it. “That's horrifying.”  
  
“That cultivates the strongest, the most merciless, the ones with victory bred in their bones. It makes the body strong, even if some cells die.”  
  
“They're not cells, they're people!”  
  
She had the grace to look away. “I couldn't afford to care.”  
  
“This was normal to you?”  
  
“There was a time I found it tragic.”  
  
“What changed?”  
  
Her jaw clenched and released. “I was reminded what merciless means. You know what I remember about Korriban? The stars. Dromund Kaas was all clouds. Korriban was always a clear sky. But it was so far from the Core...starlight dies before it reaches a place that distant. You could see a few, if you found someplace secret and safe and dark. But who has time to do that? I marveled at them on day one...and forgot, not long after. After a while on that planet nothing seems remarkable.”  
  
He wasn’t sure what to do with the silence. So he let it go on.

And the Wrath filled it. “Korriban was hell.”

After a pause he had to supply his reaction. “Can I tell you something about Tython?”

“Go ahead.”

“Tython was terrifying.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You lived there for years, didn't you?”

“With Flesh Raiders at the window. And every conversation with a master was a test. In a weird way, I couldn't show weakness. Doubt or dissension were signs that you weren't a good Jedi.”

“Surely you never doubted, Hero.”

He licked dry lips. “I've never told anyone before...some days I thought I wasn't doing it right. Some days I felt like an absolute fake. If it isn't perfect it doesn't count, you know? Am I living up to my master's teachings? Or am I in the hero business just so I can be someone?”

“You’re purer of heart than that, Jedi. Believe me. You’re no glory hound. You’re doing the wrong thing, but you’re doing it for all the right reasons.” She half smiled. Not someone saying yes because he was a Jedi or because it would buy her something. Someone saying what she meant. It tugged at his heart. “I know a little something about living in a world that's waiting for you to fail. Let it strengthen you. Make it the background noise in the music of your own making. Courage isn't courage without opposition, even when that comes from your own side.”  
  
“I won't need advice for living soon. But thanks.” He shook his head. “But we got away from Korriban.”

“Maybe for good reason,” she said, seeming to fade a little. “I tried to make friends. I had a lover, for lack of a better term. He died. That place tried to strip you of everything but hate. It was good practice for the real world.”

Then, like a hammer to the face, she looked into his eyes. There was a smile or a tremor. “Was there something else you wanted to know?”  
  
Everything. “Would you do it differently, knowing what you know now?”

Wrong choice. “I would be a perfect Sith.” She picked up her mask. She stood. “You may yet die tomorrow. Because that's what I'm good at, isn't it?”

  

*

 

It was evening, and Rho thought he needed more answers about where he was going. He sat attentively while the Wrath took off her mask and sat cross-legged opposite him.

“Can we talk about your master?” he said.

Her face clouded. “I'd rather not.”

“Why?”

“I'm going to watch him flay your mind, and then on his order I'm going to kill you. Everything else seems like trivia.”

He thought hope glimmered there. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No,” she snapped, and looked away. “These are your last free moments. Wouldn't you prefer to spend them talking about something else?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I don't know.  You start.”

“I did. The Emperor.”

“I don't want to talk about this.” She seized her mask, stood, and stalked toward the door.

“Wru-ath, wait!”

She turned back. “You idiot. I have kept you restrained for weeks and you still don't understand what that means. I am the instrument of your destruction. I am the last person who will ever shed your blood. I am the hand of a mind beyond your darkest dreams...and I do not have to speak to you!”

“Don’t you see what you become when he–”

But the door was already slamming shut.


	21. Day 17-18 - 2-3 days remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth avoids Rho, but can't do so entirely. Rho meets Ruth's second in command.

The following morning Rho was awakened by another slam, this one hard enough to shake the floor. He scrambled up only to see the giant guardsman, Pierce, carrying a tray.

“Here you go,” he said, sliding it through the little window. “One half ration bar. Hope you don’t like variety.”

“Where is the Wrath?”

A grin flashed from his beard. “Wouldn't you like to know. Listen, Jedi. Maybe she doesn't count the minutes in here. But I do. She’s not your way out. Men have died on that delusion before, and will again. Long after your ass has been decisively kicked.”

“All I'm doing is learning. Your master is a great Sith.”

Another grin. “Yeah, I know.”

The realization was sudden and strangely cutting. “You're in love with her.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Pish. What are you on about? I just know a good thing when it kills a few hundred rebels with me. She hasn't used the L word in five years. Yeah, think about that. But don't ask her, or she will kill you.”

“She already told me about the man who wronged her.”

Pierce’s confidence slipped. “She did?”

“She was quite forthcoming. It’s a hard story. I don’t blame her for taking it badly.”

“She doesn’t give a damn about your blame.” Pierce backed up. “You’ve got three days. Enjoy.”  
  
  
*

 

Ruth didn’t miss him. She didn’t miss him.

She was standing outside the forcefield cell. The rest of the room was gone, a vast featureless plane of white. Before her, still safely in the cell, was Rho, and he was looking down at her with those green eyes.

“Let me out,” he said.

“I can’t,” she said. The idea stung.

“Why not?”

“Because when I let you out He’ll take you. Don’t you understand? As long as you’re in there you’re safe.”

He nodded his usual thoughtful acceptance of what she said. But then, “You have to let me out.”

“Rho, listen to me, it doesn’t have to be this way. I could…I mean, you could…I mean…” Her meaning was looming in the outsize shadow of her words, and she couldn’t quite bring it into the light.

“You have to let me out,” he said gently. “It’s all right.”

“Stay,” she said desperately. “Don’t go to Him. Stay here.”

His hands, unbound, trailed to the edge of the forcefield. There was a switch there now, one red glow away from his finger.

“Don’t,” she begged.

“Ruth,” he said. “You’ve done everything you need to.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Ruth.” He nodded toward the switch. “It’s okay.”

Her lightsaber was in her hand, cool and malicious. She stepped back. She activated it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, to herself as much as him, and struck.

The forcefield vanished. Rho stepped forward, his mouth tracing a brief smile. He leaned down towards her, reaching out, warm and perfect, and took her chin between his fingers, turning her face up close to his, unbearably tender. “Think about it,” he said.

And before she could wrap her head around that one point of contact, he disappeared. All around her was only white and emptiness.

She fell to her knees, buffeted by loss. Her lightsaber hummed unpleasantly. And he was gone. He was gone.

He was gone, and time kept going on.

“Rho!” she screamed. Was her job really done like this? Was here where he stopped, forever?

She tried to sort out what had just happened and couldn’t. There was an answer looking for her and she couldn’t see it yet and she didn’t know why. Older voices and older nightmares rose. She kept thinking someone was at her side, but when she looked, he never was.


	22. Day 19 - 1 day remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth gives in to talk to Rho.

  
Ruth listlessly flicked her console off. She had only one thing on her mind after three days of silence. Talking with Pierce and the crew hadn’t helped. The HoloNet hadn’t helped. Meditation on her comforting Dark Side hadn’t helped.

So she went to him.

Rho shot to his feet when she entered. He waited for her to talk, though.

“I lost my temper,” she said.

“It's all right. I was leaning on you.” He scuffed the floor with one boot. “I’m glad you came back.”

She half smiled. “Is Pierce not to your liking?”

“He had less to say,” he said, deadpan. “Are you and he close?”

“I don't know how to interpret that. We've served together for the better part of a decade. He's as loyal as an Imperial gets.”

He tilted his head. “What does that mean?”

“I still sleep with the door locked. But he's a good soldier.”

Right on schedule, the pity. “How do you pick your troops if you don't trust them?”

“Referral and inheritance. I often pick up the elite of competing Sith who fall. They consider it an honor. And you?”

“The Republic assigns troops where they think best. I've never really kept in touch with most of them.”

“Who would have your back if you called?”

“Captain Rusk. Or my old padawan.”

Ruth had to process that for a second. “Old padawan? What, were you three?”

“They were unusual circumstances.”

“Who was he?”

“She. She was my age...like I said, unusual.” Whatever he read on her face, it gave him pause. “She would come for me, if she knew. Though...we've grown apart, in recent years.”

She had to prod. “She too much woman for you?”

“She’s not a woman,” he said hastily. “Not like that, not to me.”

“But she wanted to be.”

The hit showed in his big green eyes. “How can you know that?”

“This may surprise you, but I know a little about the dashing hero type. And how one is tempted to react.” It suddenly seemed like a good idea to not be looking at him. “So you drove her away?”

“We grew apart, a little.”

“You broke her heart.”

“You can't know that.”

Oh, yes she could. “All love ends in heartbreak. You were wise not to start.”

“I never asked her to love me.”

“It doesn't come and go for wishing. Believe me, I wish it did.”

“Isn’t there something I can do? For her, I mean. Without getting…close.”

“I don’t know her. I couldn’t say. I’m afraid my insight into strangers is limited.”

He fixed her with something like disapproval. “You seem to get under my skin easily enough.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t play with me, Wrath. I say things to you that scare me.”

“Because they're wrong?” She gave it the appropriate scornful emphasis.

“Because they're true.”

He shut his mouth then, but he never looked away from her eyes. “I won’t tell anyone,” she promised in spite of herself. The Emperor would crack his gentle pure mind open regardless, but Rho wouldn’t be betrayed by idle gossip.

“Do you have to do this?” said Rho.

“Yes,” she said shortly. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Whatever it was he saw on her face, it made him move on to a different point. “Will you remember when I’m…gone?”

She nodded. “Every word,” she promised.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruth was originally named because she wasn’t ruthless. That was my idea: a kinder, gentler Sith Warrior. Well, that didn’t last.
> 
> Rho is more complicated. In the moment, I just picked a syllable that sounded good. But, bear with me, I’ve worked in navigation in the past. And when you’re navigating from trilateration, as for instance in GPS, the first measurement you make to your signal source, your satellite, is mathematically denoted rho. It doesn’t tell you everything. It doesn’t take into account certain delays or clock ambiguities. But it’s a start, and everything flows from it. In a very real sense, rho is the first step in finding your way.


	23. Day 20 - Time's Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth prepares her ship for the final step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long 'un today.

Ruth checked with what passed for the ship’s mechanic, who at this point was just trying to keep the remainder of the ship together. She checked with Pierce, who stood unflappably on the bridge, ready for the morrow.

Why wasn’t she ready for the morrow?

She checked with the guardsman keeping glum watch in the mess. The promise of full meals for all seemed to cheer him up. She checked with the last three crew members while they played dejarik on an informally rigged table between bunks. Everywhere everyone expressed enthusiasm to be landing and returning to normal operations.

She did not check with her brave doomed prisoner, because that would be stupid.

She checked with the mechanic, whose status was unchanged. She stared absently at the navicomputer for a little while. She checked with Pierce, who said he was ready to take everyone off the ship when the time came for her to make the final hyperspace jump to the Emperor’s domain. She always took that last step alone.

She gave up. She went to talk to Rho.

  *  
 

“We’re getting close,” said the Wrath. “I should give you the chance to wash up.”

Rho’s heart skipped a beat. Did that mean leaving this cage? All his escape fantasies began there. And all his hopes.

She walked right up to the forcefield, for once leaving her face covered by its black and silver mask. “Undo your bindings,” she said.

“What?”

“Your wrist bonds. Undo them.” Her tone brooked no argument. She knew he could do it, then. He couldn’t surprise her with it later. The small mad hope that he could use this at the first opportunity seemed suddenly much smaller. Maybe the thought of escape had always been mad. If he could do it by lowering her defenses she wouldn’t be wearing that mask right now.

With a gesture of the dampened Force, he hit the release on the bindings and both manacles and chains fell to the ground.

“Take off your shirt,” she said. “You’ll have the chains back on while you walk, you can carry your shirt until then.”

“If we just established that these don’t stop me, why would I…?”

“Because I told you to,” she said coolly. What had ruined all his progress like this? Maybe it was the mere fact of getting closer to her master. For the past three weeks he had ruminated on the Wrath killing him…but in the end, it was really the one behind her decisions, wasn’t it? She continued. “It will inconvenience you. If you should take it into your head to try to escape on this ship, I want you to encounter every inconvenience possible. Until then, take off your shirt. You can wash it in the refresher.”

He complied. Once his shirt and upper robes were draped over his forearm he picked up the bindings and nudged them into place. She reached out with the Force to secure them herself. “The rest I think you can handle as you are?” she added.

He couldn’t tell what she was looking at. That unaccustomed exile from her transparent thoughts tugged at his nerves. “Yes,” he said.

“Good.” She drew two sabers, activated them both. He didn’t see the mechanism by which the main forcefield hummed down.

She pointed toward the doorway. “Go.”

The awareness of the Force hit him like a wave of life. The suppression of the cell had left his spirit so strained for so long, he almost staggered now with the immediacy of it.

The Wrath did not look impressed. He moved ahead of her, feeling the weapons lit at his back. The door swung open. The hallway beyond was broad and black and grey. In doorways at intervals, all the way down, uniformed Imperial troopers had rifles trained on him.

“To your left,” she said, loud enough for the others to hear. “Through the big room, then the second door on your right.”

It was one of the stranger walks he had made in his life. He proceeded among his captors, back straight, pace measured, intensely mindful that he was the only representative of his people here. Down the hall, past a blaster barrel at every opening, and into a large sparsely appointed refresher.

The Wrath walked in behind him. “The laundry slot’s on the left wall,” she said, pointing with one saber.

“Er…yes. Thank you.” He faced her, perplexed as to his next move. Disrobing in front of her was, though tempting if it meant he could get clean after, not his first choice.

He could not read her mask, nor her emotions. She turned around, keeping her sabers at the ready. “If you try anything you will regret it,” she said loudly. “Now go on. I’ll wait.”

“You could guard just as easily outside,” he said nervously. That might give him more options.

Or…or not. The solution hit him like a physical blow.

The Wrath didn’t realize it. “I don’t trust you that much,” she said. “Hurry up, you never know when the crew will come knocking. This is our only facility.”

He struggled out of his clothes and dropped them into the slot, then hit the little lever to activate the vibrowash cycle. He himself, sneaking looks at the Wrath all the while, proceeded to the shower stall and saw the water option was powered down. No wonder, given their resource situation. The vibroclean was still available, so he punched in a cycle and raised his arms to let the sonic cleansing work. He felt like he’d been rolling in sweat and sour hopes for weeks.

He peered through the clear head-height strip of the stall. The Wrath was still standing, sabers ready, staring at the door. He didn’t have a prayer of fighting her; he was having enough trouble just standing up straight over the knot of his stomach. He finished a brisk cycle and retrieved his clothes from the chute. They were pleasantly warm to the touch. He dressed with care, then said what needed to be said.

“Wrath?”

She didn’t turn around. “What?”

“This is my last chance to resist. I’m starving. I’m dizzy. I’m weak. But if I’m going to fight back it’s got to be now.”

“I know,” she said, holding her sabers low but steady. “Please don’t.”

“I have to. You would do no less in my place.”

“I will stop you. It’ll hurt you.”

“Not as much as you killing me will.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“No, Wrath. We have to. Because this is my escape attempt, all right? Do you trust me?”

“I never trusted you, Jedi.”

“Listen to me. You’ve thought about setting me free.”

“No,” she said acidly.

“Not even a little? To shut me up? Listen to me. I think there’s a reason you’ve never even considered it. And it’s the reason for a couple of other puzzles, too. Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“What if I told you I wanted to do a Light Side ritual, with your involvement.”

“Before or after I died laughing?”

“And if I swore to you it’s not planting suggestions, it’s not laying traps, it’s not going to hurt you – Light, I swear I won’t let it hurt you. All it does is sever outside control.”

“I’m not being controlled, Jedi. Do you think so little of me?”

“I think the subtlest strings are the ones you would’ve moved with naturally. But at some point the role crystallizes over what you were doing. And then you find one day through no fault of your own that you can’t just choose to go back. I think you’re finding that day. And I can help you.”

“Jedi mind tricks?”

“Hope. For both of us. Because I won’t be alive to talk to you tomorrow unless you do something.”

He dearly wished he could see through that mask, but she kept it on. She sounded a little stifled when she spoke next. “Keep talking. Please, if you keep talking around it then this train of thought won’t go to its logical conclusion and if it does that, oh, _Him_ , I think I know what’s going to happen. Keep talking, Rho.”

“It’s all right, it’s all right. It isn’t a very complicated ritual. A friend taught it to me once with the hope that I would never have to use it.”

“I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt me?”

“But the situations it’s made for might. Do you trust me?”

The Wrath deactivated her sabers and pressed her palms to her ears. “Yes. Hurry.”

He rushed to focus as he never had before. He had to make this stroke count.

*

Ruth reeled. The Force burned around her, too bright to bear; not the safe shadows she had learned to bend to her will, but something searing and rough.

“What have you done?” she said thickly.

“Just what I promised,” said her prisoner, tall and unrepentant in the midst of the fading storm. “It's made to block outside control.”

Her world was spinning and she was exposed in the middle. She felt empty, not with controlled loneliness that could fuel her, but instead hideously incomplete. She glared through her mask at her tormentor, who was letting his hands fall to his sides and eyeing her in fascination. “Undo it,” she said. “Undo it!”

His look was pitying. “I don't know how,” he said. “And I don’t think I should.”

She raised her saber and closed the difference, laying the blade beside his cheek. She was alone and screaming on the inside. “You bastard,” she managed. She had hoped for an answer. What she had instead was sheer devastation.

“Whatever it is you're feeling,” he said, “that's what it's like to have nobody but you in your head.”

“Give it back.” What a fool she had been. She had thought him under control. She had thought him friendly. And he returned that trust by ravaging her mind. “Give it back.”

“Tell me about your master.”

“Give it back!”

“Talk to me.”

“He knows everything. He knows you did this to me. He’ll blame me for being careless. He’ll kill me, Jedi, and he’ll do it because you had the nerve to put your hands on me.”

He raised his hands. “I never-”

“I hate you!” she burst. Damned Jedi and his damned tricks. “And I hate him. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what your stupid stunt did to me? I hate him. I hate that I couldn’t even think of hating him. I hate that he turned me into something so completely…” she struggled for words in the midst of her panic “…broken.”

“You’re not broken.”

Then why did standing without her familiar darkness feel so horrific? “I’m not your friend! Do you understand that? I don’t care what you did to me, my loyalty is already pledged and I will bring you to your execution and _you will deserve it_ , you son of a bitch.”

“But it’s you talking. Not him.”

“It was always me! Was that not good enough for you? Did you have to put the Jedi stamp of approval on any woman deemed worthy to be let in? How’s that working for you?”

“I had to give you this chance. Every time you talked about how dangerous your life as a Sith had to be. Every time you shut down at the mention of your master. Every time you looked at me and saw right through the Jedi to insist on the person. Through all of that, this is the only gift I have to give you.”

“I wanted to give you a chance, Jedi. If there was a way I could be permitted to think of your freedom, I wanted to try it, because you mean something to me. But you just ripped half my head off.”

“You’ll recover. You’ll be stronger for it.”

“Or maybe I’ll put things to rights when I take you to my master. Get moving, Jedi. Don’t try anything else. I’ve had enough mind tricks for one night.”

“Okay,” he said. She strained her Force senses to the maximum and felt no other assaults on the way. Rho picked up his wrist bonds and slipped them on. “I’m ready to go.”

Right. Outside, her staff, waiting with blasters ready. They must immediately see the new hollow in her head. And she didn’t know what they would do about it.

But they watched in silence as she walked her bound prisoner back. They let her through.

 *

Ruth made for the bridge, where her crew had gathered in laughing excitement. The landing on the grubby little agricultural planet was a swell of relief. Ruth went outside with all her crew, leaving the ship’s automated systems to take care of the Jedi for at least a few minutes.

But the joy of open air and stable ground didn’t last. With a heavy heart Ruth oversaw her guards loading supplies and ushering repairmen onto the _Scorned_. Her head was splitting, not just from the Force reverberation. She sensed that what was about to happen was to be the most costly move of her life. Whether that cost was to her physical safety or her soul she wasn’t sure yet.

Being the Wrath was good for getting fast repair service. The guards scattered; she waited for Pierce to return with supplies. The last step, to the Emperor’s remote station, she always took alone.

Pierce caught up with her late at night. “Everything shipshape, milord,” he said.

“Thank you. Everyone’s settled?”

“Yes. Prisoner’s not giving any trouble?”

“None. Thank you. I’ll be in touch after this is dealt with.” She felt…afraid. She had since the darkness had been sliced free of her thoughts. Everyone must know what had changed. Everyone must call her faithless now.

“For the Empire,” Pierce said, smiling wolfishly, and Ruth cringed within her mask. He saluted and left. Ruth watched him go. With that her prime watchdog was gone, and she had space to breathe.

She set course and took the ship into hyperspace. Then she just stared for a while.

After that she moved from the seat to kneeling on the floor. Acutely aware of every passing moment, she took a breath. Her focus eluded her, that self-refreshing current of rage she was so used to. The white-hot concentration wavered and failed for attempt after attempt. She couldn’t fight like this. She could barely even breathe like this. Had he robbed her of her strength permanently? Or just long enough to scare her? She paced in a circle instead. For a long time.

* 

Rho hadn’t meant to sleep, but after the long night and longer, silent morning, he gave in. He woke up tense from the too-loud steps in the doorway. The Wrath came in with measured tread, pale in the low light.

“We’re on our way?” he said.

“Yes,” she said hollowly. “Very soon.”

“You’ve been an honorable opponent,” he said tiredly. “Thank you for making this time worthwhile.”

“We’re not going to the Emperor,” she said.

Rho’s mind fuzzed out. “What?”

“He will not have you.” Her mouth kept moving but the syllables hardly seemed to make sense. “The galaxy is a better place with you in it, and I will not be the one to end that.” She stood as if expecting an answer; when he failed to give one she made some tiny gesture and the cell’s red forcefield vanished on all sides.

“Wrath…”

“Step out. You’re free.”

He Force manipulated his wrist bindings off, fascinated by its falling motion. “I’m going to live,” he said. The thought was a fire in his veins. “I’m going to live.”

“Yes.” She said the obvious with a little smile.

“I’m going to–” It was un-Jedi-like and he knew it but his elation was like a flood, and he stepped forward and flung his arms around the woman’s shoulders –

Or tried. She leaped back to the far wall, snarling, hands tense at her sides.

“No,” he said. “No, no, no. Please.” He reached for her hands. Her chest rose and raggedly fell. Slowly she brought her hands for him to gather and clasp. “There,” he said quietly. “You saved my life. I hope you’ll forgive my being a little relieved.” He squeezed her cool gloved hands. “And grateful.” Again he moved, this time to skim up her arms and draw her in, and with a curiously frozen expression she let him pull her close. Only after a firm squeeze did she rest her cheek on his chest and lean into him.

“I’m not doing this because of what you did to me,” she said quietly. “I’m doing it for who you were before. Who you’ve always been.”

He touched his nose to her faintly fragrant hair. It was nice to be hugging someone. It was nice to be alive. It was…complicated. Of course.

“What’s your plan for you?” he murmured. “If you don’t bring me to your master…”

She pushed away, keeping her hands on his chest, not quite breaking free of his arms. She looked…confused.  “Worrying for me already?”

“This is a risk. I can’t imagine what it will cost.”

“That would mark my first failed mission. He will deal with it as he deals with any servant’s failure. That’s why I’m not going back.”

“At all? But then…”

“I’ve thought about this. I’ve thought about nothing else since you did…what you did. It’s like I’ve been trying to think this for years and wasn’t allowed to. I can make myself useful to the Empire without being the Emperor’s. The advantage of his silence is that only a very few initiates will ever get direct news that I am in disfavor. And I’m not afraid of assassins.”

“Make yourself useful…? But wouldn’t it be better to leave the Empire, go to safety?”

“Is the Republic safe for me, Jedi? Don’t be naïve. I know where I need to be.”

“Come with me. You would be safe when I vouch for you.” It spun out dizzyingly before him. “We could change worlds, you and I.”

“I have no desire to see your worlds, or live by your rules.”

“Then one thing before you go. Let me come with you. We can destroy your master. You and me together. Nothing could stop us.”

Her hands stiffened, driving gloved tips into his chest. “Are you out of your mind? I said I might question his regime, not that I wanted to–”

“It would keep him from hurting you. And leave you free to place the Empire on a better course.”

“No! The answer is no! Even if I could just turn around that quickly on the one employer who hasn’t stabbed me in the back, the fact is that–” she stopped, mouth working for a few seconds – “I’m not sure your little ritual could stop him when we got there. And besides, if, if you and I risked ourselves to reach the Emperor it would not do what you imagine it would do. What little we could accomplish isn’t worth it. And I’m not teaming up with a Jedi to assassinate the Empire’s backbone!”

“I had to ask.”

“I’ll gather my resources and sort out where I need to be. You just need to go home.” Her hands were creeping up his chest, slowly. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that you take some time off from the front lines?”

“I’m needed.”

“Go clean up Hutt space. Or track down corruption in your own ranks. If you fight the Empire, sooner or later you’ll be fighting me. I…do not want that.”

“That day isn’t here yet.” His arms settled more securely around her body, a steady shape in his topsy-turvy world. Slim, with only the slightest of devastating curves. “Stars. I’m going to live.”

“And make trouble for me.” She checked his expression and sobered. “I don’t care. I want you alive.”

“You’re risking your life for me.”

“You knew I would when you did that.”

“I couldn’t be sure. I knew the Wrath. I only had hopes when it came to you.” He studied her eyes, blue and close. “Does it still hurt?”

“Like missing a limb I didn’t know I had.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It paid off, didn’t it? Maybe I can’t fully explain why. Maybe I just really liked talking to you. –We will talk in the future. Won’t we? Holo, something?”

“I’d like that. Very much.”

“I…good.” She smiled, a shot of warmth and light, and then tucked her head under his chin and rested her cheek on his chest. “You’re going to live, enemy of mine.”

He leaned down again to touch his nose to her hair. It was startlingly soft. “Not your enemy.”

“Yes, I am. I tied you up and starved you in solitary confinement for three weeks. You realize any relationship we have now is going to be as unhealthy as it is positive.”

“You’ve changed.”

“Only because you tricked me.”

“You were ready before then. I just took the obstacle out of the way.”

“Not healthy, Rho.” He liked the way his name sounded in her voice. “But I should let you eat.”

“Oh! Yes.” That sounded like the best idea he’d ever heard, and the Wrath was giving it to him. He let her go. She smiled at him, dazzlingly, and took his hand, and led him out into the hallway and down to a spacious mess.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” she said. “So I got five or six things. They could probably use reheating by now.”

It turned out that ‘things’ were enormous platters, from which he selected a Tionese spread fit for two. He didn’t bother reheating; that would have taken too much time. The Wrath just watched, unselfconsciously smiling, while he scarfed it down. He started in on the Coruscanti Human platter as well before his stomach finally signaled satiety.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Come on, you should rest.”

He followed her down one hallway and through an unmarked door. He stopped dead in the doorway.

The bed was big enough for two. The remainder of the room was of ascetic simplicity: weapons, a set of drawers. A bed. The bed was big enough for two.

“You could try the crew quarters,” she said, “but they’re not nearly so comfortable. Come on.” She beckoned, her face all business. “I for one need the rest.”

He kicked off his boots but kept his outer robes on. Cautiously he lowered himself to the yielding mattress. His hands were shaking, but his whole body otherwise sighed contentment. He watched, comfort warring with nerves, as the Wrath strode around to the other side and stretched out, propping her head on one hand.

“How are you feeling?” she said.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt better.”

She smiled. “That’s just because of what you came directly from.”

“Maybe.” He let his head sink part way into the pillow. When was the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep? Three weeks ago, most likely. “Listen, I’m not sure it’s appropriate…”

“To?” she said slyly.

“I just don’t want to impose,” he said.

“You’re not. To be blunt, I don’t want you running around here unsupervised, but I don’t want to lock you up again. This is the best compromise.”

“I’ve never spent the night in a woman’s bed before.”

“It’s not nearly as bad as you might think. Promise.” Smiling, she slid her hand toward his, hesitated, then turned away. She waved the lights down to black. “Turn around.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“That’s nice. Turn around.”

So he did. He started hearing sounds: sliding, clinking, something coming undone, something getting pushed or pulled. Things falling. Then, perversely fascinating, something like a rustle. Rho held still while the Wrath lay down behind his back.

And, doubt notwithstanding, he fell asleep.


	24. Day 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth and Rho react to the change in career choices.

When Ruth woke up somebody’s arm was around her and somebody’s breath was brushing her neck. The room was still, the covers light, the presence behind her warm and solid. For one hazy moment she was content.

But he didn’t smell like Qu– like what she remembered. In one sharp moment she recalled where she was. And when she was. And who she was. And who _he_ was.

She stayed still, all the same, just for the feeling.

Too soon the rhythmic breathing behind her stopped. The hand on her silk-clad belly flexed and closed. She took a moment to wonder whether the clothing would bother him. She didn’t own any other night clothes.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“I– uh– I’m sorry,” Rho said, too loudly.

“Don’t be.” She twisted around to face him. “I thought the waking up was very nice.” It was, too. Shockingly so.

He stuttered, but his hand stayed where it had slid to her back. “Th–this– I–”

“Sh-sh. Relax. Personally I can’t remember the last time I slept this well.” She brought her hand up to rest at his waist. The motion felt right. Stars. Since when had tumbling into bed with someone felt this…comfortable? She reached to cup his cheek, and he did not shy away. “How are you feeling?”

He smiled wryly. Without the red blur of the prison forcefield she could see his eyes were a deeper, clearer green than she’d thought. “Dizzy,” he said in his velvet baritone.

“Good dizzy or bad dizzy?”

“I d–don’t know. I woke up in bed with my sworn enemy and she’s…soft.”

“I woke up with my sworn enemy.” She edged closer, laying herself against his tense muscular body. “And he is…oh. – Sh, sh-sh, don’t be nervous. If I woke up in your arms it’s because you wanted me to. That’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“Easy for you to say.” For a moment he seemed fascinated by the chemise she’d slipped into last night. “You’ve – done this.”

“Done what? …Do you want to?”

His breath caught. “It’s not…proper.”

She felt her lips peeling back from teeth before she could stop herself. “Do not use that excuse on me, Rho. Anything but that.”

“I…don’t have anything else.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve never…” She silenced him then, pressing her mouth to his, thrilling to the tension in every inch of contact between them. He was shy, but he didn’t draw back. Far from it.

“There,” she whispered, and touched her nose to his. “Now you have.”

“You are b–beautiful,” he breathed, and closed to kiss her again. Why this man, and why now? Did she just enjoy having broken him down this much? He was free now. And she was free, with a new plan away from her master’s heavy hand. And right this minute they were both far, far more alive than they’d had any reason to hope.

“You’re not thinking straight,” she informed him in a whisper.

He took an unsteady breath. “No. I don’t think I am.”

“Don’t start now.” When she eased his mouth open he seemed briefly confused as to which side to keep kissing. She distracted him from the decision-making with her tongue. He pressed hard against her, leaning over now to push her to the mattress. She sank in willingly. Part of her wanted to question him – was it good? Was it right? Part of her knew very well that he was fine, as his lips and hands could attest. Part of her was too urgent to care either way. She let go his thick black hair and guided one of his hands to her hem. It was just Rho, no one more and no one less, desirable not because he was forbidden – nothing was forbidden to her, not if she didn’t want it to be – but because he knew her, and because his eyes widened in a flare of innocence with every new caress. As he pressed her down she slid her hands to help him with his belt. That was the problem with the morning thus far. He was wearing too much.

Time for that famous armor to come off.

  *

 

“Tell me this was wrong.”

“It…is not wise to cultivate an attachment, even one that feels good–”

Rho’s breath hit a hitch while Ruth lightly nuzzled under his ear, down the tendons of his neck to his shoulder. “Tell me it was wrong, my Jedi.”

“No,” he sighed.

She kissed his shoulder. She traced across his chest and side to his hand and laced her fingers with his. They just breathed for a little while. He felt…different. All over. Like someone had scooped his everything out and replaced it with something bright and trembling. He had always assumed he knew what guilt felt like, and this surely wasn’t it. This didn’t have a label.

“I didn’t know you knew my name,” said Ruth.

“I told you I studied you. I just thought you didn’t want to hear it.”

“I liked the way you said it.”

“I liked saying it.”

“Mm. Yes.”

A tone sounded from the console. Rho tensed. Ruth frowned. “Navicomputer. We’re getting close.”

“Close to where?” He could think of no safe answer to that question. She was going to push him away. This spell was about to break.

“A little bolt hole just inside Hutt space. From there you should be able to arrange passage…home.”

His heart sank. “Oh.” Home meant away. It meant going back to…everything he’d been. Including distant. Especially distant from her.

“Can’t I help you?” he said.

“No. It isn’t your world, where I’m going. You wouldn’t like learning the rules.”

Ruth was skinning on her armor, already walking for the door. Rho pulled on tunic and pants and followed. She sat in the pilot’s chair and pulled up the controls. “Care to check comms?” she said crisply. He took the seat in front of her. The controls were neatly labeled in tiny print.

“There’s no traffic control here,” she said. “Just listen for anybody else passing through.”

Comms revealed only static. Rho watched helplessly while the little blue planet floated closer. There was his ticket home, and away from her.

Which was smart and right, because she was an enemy combatant and she hadn’t exactly treated him well over the past three weeks. He was her prisoner of war, not her…her…was ‘lover’ the right word? For a few glorious minutes he had been.

The faint tug of gravity told him they were close. He hunched over the controls and watched.

“Are you glad to come home?” Ruth said quietly.

Home. Friends. Safety. Food. His work, his calling. Everything, and he to be delivered to it. “Yes.”

“Ah.”

Disappointment? “It’s not too late. You could come with me.”

“It was always too late. I won’t leave my home. – Well, it won’t be safe at my actual house. But I belong in Imperial space.”

He twisted around. “Please. Give it fair consideration.”

“I can’t do it. Not even for you. I’m sorry, Rho.”

“I need to see you again.”

The corners of her mouth turned up further. “Beautiful, you’re seeing me right now.”

“More than this. It has to be more than this.”

“I’ll be in touch. That’s a promise.”

The landing pad she aimed for was small and unstable-looking over a sheer stone drop, but it took the weight of the ship. Ruth donned her mask before stirring. A heavy-coated Rodian was walking out of a domed building toward them even as the ship’s ramp deployed.

“Tennet,” said Ruth. “I have a job for you.”

“My lord,” the woman said. “What is it?”

“Paying, for one thing. My friend here needs to get to Republic space. Planet of your choice, Rho.” Ruth tossed a credstick Tennet’s way. “That’s all.”

“Wait!” said Rho.

She stopped in place. “Yes?” she said, almost gently.

He couldn’t unburden his heart with the stranger standing right there. He hardly knew where to start. “This isn’t goodbye,” he said lamely.

“No. Until we meet again, Jedi. May our battles take us elsewhere.”

She turned and walked back into her ship. Rho stared, probably longer than he should have. Then, shaking himself, he turned to the pilot.

“Destination?” she said, sounding as crisp as Rodians got.

“Tython,” he said automatically. “I’ll download the charts on the way.”

“Core world, right? It will take a while from here.”

“I have time,” he said. It was her last gift to him. At least, until they met again.

  *

fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there ends this journey for Rho and Ruth. She no longer has power over him...except the mutual power they're just coming to understand. Any future chapter must be fundamentally different, as they are returning to the normal galaxy. That's a story for another time.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
